


Lattices

by Rhyss



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:46:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 191,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22977136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhyss/pseuds/Rhyss
Summary: After six years of military training, 16 year-old Asterra is off to do what everybody in her clan is expected to do by tradition: prove their right to be an adult by passing three phases of the Hunter Exam. But she's got her sights set on bigger goals than just being recognized as an adult. The Hunter x Hunter story with an OC.  Originally posted on fanfiction.net starting 2014 and posted here by the original author (me) starting 2020.  Complete as of 4 April 2020.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	1. Boarding the Boat

**Hey there; the name's Rhyss.**

**This is the first fanfic I've ever posted, although I've been writing fanfics for...I dunno, six years?**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

For 363 days of the year, the port town of Essel (located on a northern peninsula of the Yorbian continent) was a quiet, picturesque place meant for dates, honeymoons and retirees. During those remaining two days, though, the port's atmosphere did an about face. Hordes of people came from the surrounding areas, swarming the town's hospitality businesses like locusts descending upon crops.

The residents didn't particularly look forward these two days that took place in the end of the first week of January; the crime rate had a curious tendency to jump from the normal 3% to an unheard of 20% during those two days. But they knew that their small port town couldn't survive without it, because during those two days Essel made a fifth of their annual income.

So every year many residents boarded up their windows or flat out left town with all of their valuables. Each policeman was offered double the usual wage so that a solid police presence could be kept on the streets. And all of the residents who had gathered the courage to stay to work the hotels, inns and restaurants braced themselves for horde that would come to Essel with only one goal in mind: to get on the ship that would take them to the Hunter Exam site.

There were so many applicants for good reason. In this world the status of "Hunter" was a special one that came with lucrative benefits. Said benefits included 95% of all public facilities being free of cost, almost unlimited access to any location across the world, being able to take out immense bank loans, plus a couple more that were all available with the flash of a Hunter license card. But only the elite of humanity could become Hunters and the exam had a notoriously high failure and mortality rates.

Not that it discouraged anybody from entering.

So it didn't surprise any residents of port Essel that hundreds of applicants flocked to the ports with boats that took them to the exam. In fact, every inch of the port's concrete surface being covered with people wasn't an unprecedented event.

In the opposite direction of the sea was a line of trees and benches, usually reserved for couples on a date or tourists taking a break from walking along the seaside shops. But now only a girl with a white colored jacket-hoodie sat on a shaded bench. A hood was pulled over her head, obscuring the top half of her face. Leaning back with her arms and legs crossed, she appeared to be observing the sea of people spread out on the port.

To a passerby, her presence itself would have been a stark contrast to the other exam applicants. With their scars and crooked noses, most of the people standing on the concrete looked like they had been in their fair share of brawls and tight spots. Many of them were muscular and carried weapons blatantly; they oozed with an aura that screamed "I've been arrested before!" In contrast to them the girl was young; a teenager that didn't look like she had seen the inside of a jail before, much less done time. The skin that was not covered up was devoid of scars and she didn't carry around a big weapon on her back or hip. The part of her nose not covered by her hood wasn't crooked.

The girl stretched her neck, which was starting to stiffen after half an hour of people watching from this position. Observe, analyze, and look for relationships between people, the dynamics, the threats, the weak links, the pack leader. It was a practice that had been drilled into her since she was young, tagging along with her mother as she conducted anthropological research. Now she found herself doing it automatically every time she entered a new, unfamiliar environment with people in it.

She really wasn't seeing any relationships at the moment though. It felt like she was looking at a bunch of lone wild dogs crammed into a small area. All of the applicants' postures were stiff, eyes wary. Not many made small talk and all seemed to be spaced evenly from each other, as if they were trying to keep as much distance between each other as they could. Several kept a hand on their weapons.

Yes, wild dogs was the best way to put it. They were all wild, hungry dogs, baring teeth and raising hackles to scare others off while thinking about whether or not to form a pack. The tension made the air heavy, as if there was much more humidity than expected.

Her father's words, part of a reply to her asking for advice on the Hunter Exam, came back to her. _"Be careful, Asterra. Keep your head, watch your back. Ambition, fear and desperation make people unpredictable."_

He had been right. This crowd was a stew pot of those emotions already and she wasn't even at the exam site yet; what was it going to be like when she actually arrived there? If it was worse than this, she was going to have a hard time following her mother's advice. _"Get numbers on your side, as quickly as possible; you can't win alone._ "

Was now a good time to find somebody to pair up with?

Her gut told her no. The heavy atmosphere that seemed to make any small talk awkward told her no as well. Plus Asterra wasn't sure if she wanted to team up with these people specifically. She couldn't shake off the feeling that it would probably bring more misfortune than fortune.

Something fuzzy nuzzling her hand coaxed her out of her reverie. Asterra looked down to see a stoat-like face staring up at her. "Guess I'm not alone if I'm with you, am I, Kikiri?" Asterra smiled as she stroked the stoat's head, taking care to avoid the three horns that erupted in a triangle pattern from its forehead.

"Got that right," Kikiri chirped before laying down his head on her lap again. As a Dokujo, Kikiri posessed the ability to use human speech and had been a godsend to her younger self. As the child of an archaeologist and an anthropologist that rarely liked to stay in one place for too long, Kikiri had been one of the only concrete things in her life.

"Hey, is that our ship?"

Asterra looked up towards the sea upon hearing the question. A caravel that had been hanging around the horizon was starting to pull in. A few minutes later it stopped so that its starboard was facing the pier, revealing its name: _The Maiden Voyage._

Asterra frowned at the name. Who in their right mind would name their ship that?

Ropes were thrown off the side and onto concrete. Port workers started scurrying out, tying ropes to the kevels on the pier to keep the caravel in place. The crashing sound of water indicated that the anchor had been dropped as well.

The applicants all cocked their heads toward the incoming boat, their curiosity piqued. Was this the boat that would take them to the next exam? It matched the description that had been written on the flier announcing this year's Hunter Exam.

A deep voice, amplified by a megaphone, answered that particular question. "Good morning, applicants!"

Nobody answered back; they all just stared at the ship.

"I SAID, GOOD MORNING, APPLICANTS!"

Asterra winced at the obnoxiously loud volume of the voice.

A few yelled "good morning" back, while one voice hollered out, "Who do you think we are?! Preschoolers?!"

"Well compared to how old I am, you lot might as well be preschoolers!"

A brief smile ran across Asterra's face, while the other applicants started yelling back in outrage.

"Aww, shut up and man up, you babies!" the voice boomed again. "It's called a joke! Learn to laugh at one! Anyway, I assume that you lot are the applicants that I'm supposed to take to Port Dolle! Is that right?"

A roaring "yes" answered him.

"All right, good! Well, turns out we're on a tight schedule right now so I'll have to make this stop short!"

The sound of wood hitting concrete echoed as a gangplank hit the pier.

"Applicants, we'll be setting sail in ten minutes! Get your asses on board fast if you don't want to get left behind!"

_Ten minutes?!_ Asterra stood up on the bench and scanned the port. There had to be at least two hundred people standing near the pier, waiting to get on the boat. She looked at the gangplank more closely. It looked to be about four men wide and had very low handrails—an unusual design for a gangplank. All the ones Asterra had seen before were usually wide enough for one person to climb up it and had high handrails to prevent people from falling into the water.

Nevertheless, there was no way that everybody could get on-board in ten minutes.

Not even three seconds had passed when an applicant screamed and broke from the crowd. He scrambled up the gangplank and made it up to the deck and didn't stop until he was on the other side of the deck. The other applicants followed suit-two, three more applicants broke away from the crowd and sprinted up the gangplank. Ten seconds had passed when the main part of the horde seemed to ripple then finally surge forward with a roar, realizing the situation that they had been dumped into and what actions they had to take.

Human bodies converged onto the entrance of the gangplank. Applicants trampled each other, shoved each other; all stops were pulled, all social rules and considerations thrown aside as each applicant did everything in their power to fight their way aboard the ship. Within twenty seconds of the announcement the population density of the area in front of the gangplank had gone from zero to three people per square foot.

The lucky few that had been nearest to the gangplank managed to board without too much trouble. The others weren't so lucky.

Screams pierced the air as applicants were knocked off the pier. More were knocked off the gangplank by those stronger than them, falling over the railings that barely came up to their waists. All plunged into the sea, which was in low tide; those that fell in could not clamber back out and attempt to board the ship again. Some of the applicants tried to claw onto the wooden hull of the ship but to no avail, as there were no handholds on the hull. Coincidentally (or not) there were no small ships around to help the applicants. Once they were in the water, they were done for.

Asterra drank in the scene in front of her—the desperation, the fear, the ambition—and gulped. Ever since realizing that not everybody could board the ship, she had known that something like this would happen. Limited time, limited space—competition was unavoidable in these circumstances. She had not, however, braced herself for the magnitude of the scene and the shock that it would bring.

How the hell was she supposed to get through that horde?

"Asterra!"

Her hands shook, her breaths shortened, beads of perspiration trailed down her face.

How the hell was she supposed to board when people were losing their minds and morality in front of the gangplank?

"Asterra!"

How the hell was she supposed to get on board without getting killed?

A flash of pain on her ankle—like something had scratched her—brought her back to the present. "Asterra!"

The girl looked down to see small lines of red on her ankle and Kikiri standing next to it. "Kikiri?"

"You can't think straight if you panic! Calm down! Think! What's the number one rule?"

The familiar question dragged up a mantra-like response from the depths of her mind. "Never, ever panic," she said, repeating the phrase that her father had drilled into her.

Kikiri nodded.

Asterra closed her eyes and took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air and the oxygen that her brain need to think. And once her lungs had been filled to maximum capacity, she expelled, letting the carbon dioxide, the heat, the panic leave her body.

When her hands stilled and breaths back to normal, she looked at the scene again. This time she forced herself to look past the fear, the desperation, and the ambition and to instead look at the distribution of people, other points of entry. The gangplank couldn't be the only way to get on.

She first focused on the how the people were distributed. In her head what her eyes saw were translated into words, strung together into simple sentences inside of her mind.

_The majority of the applicants were focused in the area near the gangplank._

_Most people were falling into the sea from that area._

_Getting onto the gangplank did not guarantee getting onto the ship._

_People on the edges of the gangplank were most likely to fall off._

_There were hardly any people at the ends of the ship._

Asterra blinked, repeating the last fact. _There were hardly any people at the ends of the ship._

So if she were to try to board the ship, she would be better off trying to do so by circling around the horde of people and attempting to do so from areas near the ends of the ship. At the very least there would be less people to shove her into the sea. But from there, where would she go?

From what she could see, some applicants were resorting to jumping across and grabbing onto the ledge; it had a very low success rate. Not a good idea.

Others were climbing up the ropes that held the boat to the pier. She thought about doing that, until she saw an applicant grab another applicant's legs and yank him off the rope. Apparently even having a small number of people doing the same thing as you was dangerous.

Asterra scanned the ship again, focusing on the areas with no people, and spotted a dark, thin and long object hanging off the side near the front of the ship. The anchor chain.

That looked promising.

Her eyes strolled up the chain and stopped at a small hole in the side where the chain led into. A little distance above the hole was the ledge of the ship. The distance between the two seemed short enough for her to reach the ledge and pull herself in. In case it wasn't, there was a rope running horizontally beneath the edge that she could use.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the megaphone-amplified voice from before. "Five minutes!"

"Crap!" Asterra jumped off the bench and slung the black sling bag on that had been sitting on the bench next to her over her shoulder. She had spent half of precious time panicking then thinking; now she needed to act. "Kikiri, let's go!" she yelled, extending her arm towards the creature. Kikiri leaped onto her it and scrambled up, diving into her hood and curling around her neck. "What are we doing?" he asked.

"Climbing the anchor chain!" she replied.

_I really hope this works_ , Asterra thought as she started running parallel to the ship. She kept to the grassy area as much as possible to avoid the other applicants.

"Three minutes!"

Asterra veered to the left, towards the ship's front, as she put more distance between her and the crowd. Grass became concrete and her footsteps became harder and louder. Her muscles began to smolder.

"One minute!"

The edge of the pier and the blue of the sea neared; every breath felt like it wasn't enough. The smoldering in her legs grew and burned more and more as if somebody was adding tinder to it.

Nine feet, five feet. Asterra put forth a burst of speed to ready herself for the jump. Three feet, two feet, one foot, zero. Her foot stepped onto the ledge and she bent her knee. For a moment she felt like she was frozen there, but then a roar ripped out of her throat as her leg extended and she was in the air, high above the water.

The anchor chain got bigger and bigger as she reached her peak height and continued to grow in size as she began to fall. But then she realized that she was falling faster than the chain was growing in size. The distance was larger than expected; she still had several feet to go.

_Shit,_ she thought. She straightened her body to make it as long and thin, to minimize point of impact. "Kikiri, jump onto the chain!"

"What?!"

"Just do it!" Asterra extended her arm and she saw a flash of red-brown run down it. All she saw was Kikiri sailing towards the anchor chain before she was slammed into the sea. The force of impact punched the air from her lungs and a burst of bubbles exploded from her mouth and nose. For a few moments she couldn't do anything and stood there, sinking. Then the realization that she couldn't breathe hit her and alarm bells were ringing in her head, warning her that her brain was starting to starve for oxygen. Her hands clawed at the water and her feet kicked, propelling her towards the surface, towards air.

Cool sea air slapped Asterra's face as she broke the surface and rushed into her throat and lungs with each gasp. She treaded water and rubbed sea water out of her eyes.

"Asterra!" Kikiri's voice reached her ears and she turned towards it. Through blurry vision she saw a dark, long object against wood brown.

"Make it?" she gasped.

"I made it! Now your turn! Just swim straight!"

"30 seconds!" megaphone voice yelled again.

Asterra tipped her body forward and she dipped her hand into the water and pushed it back. Her body moved forward, though not as far as she liked. Swimming in a full set of clothes was nothing like swimming in a swimsuit.

"Come on, Asterra!" Kikiri encouraged her again.

_Quit thinking and swim_ , a voice in her head told her viciously and she obeyed, dipping her other arm into the water and pushing it back. Stroke by stroke, she made her way to the anchor chain.

"Ten seconds! Nine! Eight!"

She quickened her strokes, her arms dipping in and out faster than the steady beat of the countdown.

"Seven! Six! Five!"

Her arms started to burn.

"Four! Three!"

She couldn't get enough air.

"Two! One!"

Asterra's palm smacked something cold and hard, and further fumbling revealed loops.

"Grab onto that!" Kikiri yelled.

She snaked the fingers of both hands into one loop that was above the water and pulled herself close to the chain.

"Zero! We're off, applicants!"

Brave port workers untied the ropes binding the ship to port and the gangplank was pulled in. Some managed to hold onto the piece of wood and scrabble onboard. Others, whose grip had slipped or had been shoved off, fell to the sea and the realization that they would not be participating in this year's Hunter Exam.

The sound of metal grinding on metal caught Asterra's attention. She tightened her grip on the chains as her body was pulled out of the water. For a few moments she just hung there, in the open air, like a piece of meat being dried. Then her arms and shoulders began to protest as they felt the combined strain of swimming and holding up 145 pounds of flesh, organs, and bone that the water had supported until a few seconds ago.

Creak. Creak. Creak. The anchor moved up agonizingly slowly, as if it had some sadistic plan to drop her into the sea by waiting until her arms gave out. One of her hands began to slip and she fixed her grip. But her hands were still wet from her swim so the fix was temporary. She was soon fixing her grip every few seconds, every muscle in her upper body screaming every time she did so. Asterra felt around with her feet to see if there was nook that she could shove a foot into. But her feet must have been near the middle of a chain link because all she could feel was empty space. "Kikiri! How long to the chain hole?"

"Almost there!"

A quick look upwards told her that Kikiri wasn't lying to comfort her. The hole was about a foot away and the rope she had seen earlier was there too.

Once the rope was in arm's length of her Asterra grabbed it with both hands. She used it to support her as she walked up the rest of the chain and onto the small foothold that the metal border of the chain hole provided. She then ducked under the rope so that her back was now leaning on it, then grabbed onto the boat ledge.

_Come on, don't give out now. Just one more haul._

Asterra gripped the ledge tightly and jumped off the chain hole border. At the same time she pulled herself up. "Raaaargh!"

Her torso rose above the edge of the boat and she flopped ungraciously onto it so that her stomach was pressed against the wood of the ledge. Then she brought her left leg up and swung it over the ledge. It was too tiring to lift her right leg over, so she pushed her left knee into the inside of the boat and used the leverage to flip over the ledge.

What air she had left was knocked out of her as she landed back-first on the deck of the caravel. For a moment she lay there, chest heaving, feeling numbness pervade her limbs. Her field of vision was filled with the blue of the sky and blurry outlines of brown masts and white sails.

"Asterra!" She felt Kikiri leap onto her chest and soon his stoat face replaced the masts and sails. "You made it! You're in!"

If she hadn't been so deprived of air she would have laughed.

She was in. She was on the boat.

She was going to the Hunter Exam.

* * *

**Thanks for reading to the end :)**

**I am always open to suggestions for improving my writing-after all, I'm hardly perfect.**

**See you in the next chapter.**

**-Rhyss**


	2. The Stowaway

**A disclaimer before I start, because I forgot to write it on the last chapter:**

**As much as I wish I did, I do not own Hunter x Hunter. I only own what you do not recognize :)**

* * *

"Seriously? You too?" Asterra groaned as she picked out the soggy map with her thumb and index finger from her soggy sling backpack. The seawater had caused the colored ink to leave its place on the paper and bleed together so much that now she couldn't tell what was what anymore. She laid the map next to her a soggy coil of rope and a soggy blanket, deciding to throw it out and look for a new one once she got to Dolle Harbor. She gave the backpack she had brought an exasperated flick. "I thought this thing was supposed to be waterproof."

"The vendor said water resistant, not waterproof," Kikiri said drowsily to her. "And he said that five years ago too."

She glared at the Dokujo for a moment then looked up. The sky was cloudless and a bright sun beat down on the sea and the ship sailing on it. "Well at least it's sunny." Asterra looked to her pile of soggy belongings. "Won't take long for everything to dry." In fact, 40 minutes of sitting on the deck had dried her jacket from drenched to damp, and her orange shoulder-blade-length hair was almost dry too.

Asterra checked the rest of the things that had been in her backpack-food, water canteen, a penlight, first aid kit, and a penknife. Food, which consisted primarily of jerky, had gotten a little wet, but it was still edible. The water canteen and the water inside it were okay. The penlight still worked (for now, at least), the first aid kit wasn't waterlogged, and the penknife seemed to be devoid of any major damage too.

_Guess it could have been worse,_ Asterra thought as she waited for her things to dry. She looked towards the deck area towards the middle area of the caravel where the majority of the people were gathered to pass the time.

Out of the roughly 200 people who had been on the port, only about 50 remained. Only 50 people, and they barely fit on the deck. It probably would have been impossible to fit all those people waiting at the port, which brought her to a chilling conclusion.

Had that…gangplank event been carried out deliberately in order to eliminate some of the applicants?

It was the only scenario in which that event could make sense-to her, at least. It gave reason as to why a merchant ship had only stopped at port for 10 minutes, an amount of time that made any kind of loading and unloading of cargo impossible. Otherwise she would have to assume that the captain was simply a sociopathic nutjob that liked seeing people scream and suffer and react like animals, and Asterra really did not want to have to assume that was the case.

Either way, she had to keep on her toes. There was always the possibility that the captain would try something again during the trip-something that would shave down the number of applicants even more.

Asterra sent the thought to the back of her head and turned her attention to the distribution of the people.

Their formation had not changed by much-many of them sat as far away from each other as possible. In fact, Asterra herself was doing the same thing by sitting in an area near the ledge of the boat where there were not many people.

But there was one exception to the situation. As Asterra's eyes roamed to the starboard side of the boat, she spied a 2 men sitting near the starboard railings. One looked brutish, with a thickly muscled body clad in a tank top that had seen better days and army fatigues. Scars ran across his tanned face and bald head and a tattoo wrapped around his upper bicep. His eyes, though, were dull; they lacked the light of creativity, of cleverness.

The other man sitting next to Brawns was leaner. He wore a dark long-sleeved shirt with an outdoor vest over it and long light-colored pants. His light brown hair tossed messily all to one side and he sat with his back against the railing in a relaxed manner, as if he was on a luxury cruise rather than a shipful of tense applicants that weren't afraid to get rough. A cocky smile played on his lips while he spoke, and his eyes looked sly. From the way that the two exchanged words, it appeared that he was trying to strike up a partnership with the human troll.

The cocky one offered his hand and the muscular one took it, nodding. Apparently the two had come to an agreement.

As the two ended their handshake, a voice cut through the air from the area towards the back of the boat. It sounded similar to the voice on the megaphone. Asterra looked towards the source of the sound to see who was speaking.

Towards the back of the boat was a wall with the door to the areas below deck. On both sides of the entrance there were staircases that led up to an upper deck that spanned the back one-fourth of the caravel. On this elevated deck stood a sturdy, stout man dressed in a heavy seafaring coat with arms behind his back. From the way the skin crinkled around his eyes, one could tell that he had spent a good portion of his life squinting over the horizon as the sea air whipped his face. A grey beard that covered more than half of his face gave him a grizzled look and a white and a navy blue admiral's cap sat atop greying hair.

"First of all," the captain's voice boomed across the ship. "I, Captain Rilto, want to congratulate all of you that managed to board my ship. As you can see, not many of you did. So as a little treat for your work, I'll take you to the port closest to the Hunter Exam site: Dolle Harbor! So rest easy, you lot! Five hours and you'll be close to the exam site!"

Cheering erupted from the applicants. Five hours meant that they would be arriving in Dolle Harbor at about half-past two in the afternoon.

Captain Rilto waited for the cheering to die down before continuing. "I can imagine, though, that five hours is a long time to just wait for any one of you. So I have a little game that all of you can play to pass the time called 'Find the Stowaway.'

"Right now there are 30 men, not including myself, working to keep this ship going. But a stowaway's managed to disguise himself as a crewman. I want each one of you to try to figure out who that is."

"Can't you do that?" an applicant hollered.

"I could; but then you lot wouldn't have a game to play," the captain grinned. "Every crew member has a nametag; you are going to write on a piece of paper the name of the crew member of who you think is the stowaway and give it to me once we reach Dolle Harbor. I won't tell you if you're right or wrong; I'll only give you a piece of paper in exchange. And if you follow the instructions on the paper, you'll know whether or not you were right by the end of the day."

Asterra narrowed her eyes. So there was another test to thin the herd of applicants.

One of the crew started giving out a slip of paper and a pen to each applicant on the boat as the captain continued. "Before the game begins, I want to lay down a couple of rules. First rule: you can't ask the crew or anybody else who works on this ship who the stowaway is. Second rule: You can't harass my crew into telling you who the stowaway is. Third rule: You can go anywhere on the ship except for my quarters. Fourth rule: Give me back my pens when you're done! Anybody that breaks the four rules will be swimming before they know what hit them. Any questions?"

Nobody asked. However Asterra did hear applicants around her mutter phrases along the lines of "How the hell are we supposed to figure this out?"

"Good. Then get started!" With that the captain disappeared from sight.

Asterra received a paper and pen from a crewman-whose nametag said "Devo"-and packed her now dry things. She then gathered up her hair into a side ponytail on her left. Kikiri ran up her arms and took his usual place on her shoulders as she put on her backpack. Asterra then began walking towards the captain.

"Wait, Asterra," Kikiri said. "Shouldn't we go below deck to look for the stowaway?"

"I want to ask the captain something first."

Within a minute Asterra had made her way to the captain, who was descending the stairs on the left. "Captain!" Asterra called.

"Yeah?" the captain asked as Asterra jogged up to him. "You aren't going to ask me who the stowaway is, are you?"

Asterra shook her head. "I heard your rules; this is about something else. Why did you call your boat 'The Maiden Voyage'?"

The captain laughed. "You're not the first one to ask me that. Do you know what a maiden voyage is?"

Asterra shook her head again.

"It's the very first trip a ship takes after being built. It's a beautiful sight-the new ship sliding into the water without a splash. And a ship on its maiden voyage smoothly responds to every turn of the wheel, every part of the ship working together without a hitch." The captain patted the railing of the staircase affectionately. "And I want this girl to always be in that kind of shape so that I can keep sailing on her til the end of my days."

Asterra blinked as she processed the answer to the question that had been bugging her since she had seen the name of the ship. It was an odd answer-the captain humanized the ship by calling it "this girl"-but it satisfied her curiosity.

"Got any more questions?" the captain asked.

Asterra shook her head. "No; thanks for answering the one I had. I'll go look for that stowaway now."

The captain gestured towards the door in the wall with his chin. "Way below deck is there. Stay out of my quarters."

"Will do," she smiled.

=o=o=o=

After the ordeal at the gangplank, all the majority of applicants wanted to do was sit on the deck of the boat and vegetate while sunbathing. A part of Asterra felt the same way but a bigger part of her was excited to have the task. Frequent traveling with her parents and constantly being thrown into new environments, combined with a brain wired in a way that doing nothing drove her insane, had made Asterra a rather restless youth. Kikiri knew from experience that if she wasn't doing anything, she ended up pursuing whatever caught her attention at that particular moment, whether it was a crack in the wall or a flower growing out of a crack of a cliff face, even if sating that curiosity meant facing danger. Five hours of doing nothing would have killed her soul.

Asterra sat down on a bench-like piece of wood in the center part of the deck, the wind whipping her face and hair. She had five hours to find and identify the disguised stowaway. How would she do that though? The captain had taken away the easy road of asking one of the crew members who the stowaway was. How else could she identify an outsider? Use ship vocabulary? That would have been a great idea if she knew any.

"Asterra, shouldn't we get moving?" Kikiri asked but Asterra ignored his question, as she was too engrossed in people watching. Hunter Exam applicants and crewmen alike milled about, each person on their own separate mission. The door to below deck opened and closed rhythmically; one person walked out, another walked in. Her eyes strolled across the deck lazily, jumping from person to person, from people that sat against the boat ledge to people who stood stiffly with crossed arms and eyes focused in thought. His body language said-

Body language.

Of course; why had she not thought of it before? The crew were not allowed to tell the applicants who the stowaway was. Not telling something was something that they chose to do consciously. But there was something that they could not control via conscious thought-body language. How their bodies reacted upon seeing an outcast-the shift in posture, the shift in glances-would telegraph their emotions to an observant eye. As long as the crew knew who the stowaway was, their body language would betray their sentiments towards the stowaway. And then there was the flip side: she had to look for a crew member who looked unsure of what he was doing, assuming he had not been working on the ship for long.

A small grin lit up her face as a plan formulated in her mind. She would have to observe all the interpersonal interactions between all of the crewmates, including the higher-up ones. But she didn't have the time to tail every single member of the crew and see every one of their interactions. In an ideal world she would have been able to observe them while they were all in one room. But this wasn't an ideal world, so she needed the next best thing.

A sailor walked by her, carrying a box of something. "Excuse me," she called and the sailor turned towards her. "Berett" was written on his nametag. "Berett."

"Yeah?" he asked.

"When do the crewmen eat lunch?"

"We usually eat lunch in shifts-a group eats at noon, another eats at one, and another group eats at two."

Damn. She had to give a decision to the captain by half past two; that didn't leave her much time to observe the third group.

"Why do you ask?"

"Out of curiosity," she replied, then added, "and I may or may not be getting kinda hungry." She wasn't lying: hunger was poking at her stomach, but it was a tolerable nagging sensation that she could stand for a couple more hours.

Berett laughed. "Forget to eat breakfast?"

She shook her head, a smile on her face. "No, just ate early."

The sailor shifted his grip on the box. "Well, I'm not sure if our cooks would give you anything, but if you go in there"-the sailor pointed at the door located towards the back of ship-"the galley is on the first floor. Go right down the corridor and it's on the left side."

"Ok. You have the time?"

"10:30."

One and a half hour until the first lunch shift. "And where's the mess hall?" she asked again.

"Near the galley; actually, it's right in front of it."

"Got it," Asterra replied, smiling, and stood up. "Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem," Berett replied as she walked past him towards the door. He then spotted a particularly rough-looking Hunter Exam applicant glaring at him and cringed. The captain had warned them that something like this would happen and asked them to hang in there for five hours. Berett faced forward again, feeling the applicant's eyes bore into his back. It made him wonder why the majority of the applicants on this ship had to be intimidating men rather than cute, friendly girls like the one he had just talked to.

=o=o=o=

Asterra found the mess hall and galley easily. A quick peek into the mess hall proved that it was empty, so she decided to observe the cooks in the galley, although the mouthwatering aroma that snaked out of the room had a significant influence on her decision. There were two cooks in the kitchen and the both of them bantered with each other like old friends while chopping up vegetables and stirring pots. A minute or two of watching also revealed that both of them knew exactly where everything was. Neither of them wandered around the galley's cabinets; they just walked over to one, reached in, and walked back to their station with desired material in hand. Both of these cooks were too well-adjusted to their surroundings to be the stowaway.

A quick look at the clock told her that she still had time to burn until lunch. She had started to walk out the galley to observe the other sailors when she noticed that Kikiri was missing from her shoulder. "Kikiri?" she called, looking around.

The outraged cry of a cook answered her instead.

"You little-!" the cook nearest to the door shrilled, raising his ladle above his head. "Get out!"

Asterra turned to see Kikiri bolting towards the door, stubby little legs working overtime to get the Dokujo out of the galley as fast as possible. There was a piece of meat in his mouth.

It didn't take long to put two and two together. "Kikiri!" Asterra groaned.

"Get this thing out of here!" the cook screamed at Asterra. "It'll make my crew sick!"

"Hey! Kikiri does not have diseases!" Asterra snapped back. "He's clean!"

"I don't care! Get it out of here before I kill it!"

Red-brown streaked by her feet and into the corridor. Asterra followed suit before the cook screamed anything more. As soon as they reached the corridor, the door slammed behind them.

"Kikiri! Why didn't you tell me you were hungry?" Asterra asked, leaning against the corridor wall. "I would've given you some jerky."

"I wasn't," Kikiri insisted as he ripped the meat apart with his paws and teeth. "But that was raw meat! Real, raw meat, not that salted, dried stuff you've been giving me for the last two days!" His voice rose in pitch to a whine. "How was I supposed to say no to that?!"

"You didn't have to! You could have at least asked nicely instead of just taking it!"

Kikiri swallowed the stolen meat. "He wouldn't have given me it!"

"You don't know that!" Asterra shot back, hands on hips. Then she took them off. "Ugh, you know what? Forget it. What's past is past." She knelt down and Kikiri bounded up her arm, licking his lips, and the two continued down the corridor. After a few moments of silence, Asterra asked, "Did you at least enjoy it?"

"Mmhmm. A lot," Kikiri said dreamily. "I can't wait to get back on land. I'm sick of that salted stuff you give me."

"Hey, watch it," Asterra shot back. "'That salted stuff' is what's keeping you fed at the moment, since I can't carry around a cooler full of fresh meat. Or would you rather go hungry for the rest of the day?"

Kikiri face gained a horrified expression. "You wouldn't."

"You know I would."

"Meanie," Kikiri said and head-butted Asterra's ear, which made her laugh.

=o=o=o=

After two hours of observing and wandering the corridors, Asterra had a mental list of four names that she suspected of being the stowaway. She sat on a bench on the corner of the room, pretending to be engrossed in the newspaper that had been sitting there. Kikiri slept on her lap.

All four of the candidates appeared in the first lunch shift, which consisted of about ten people. And after an hour of lunch, all of the four sailors were crossed off the list.

The second lunch hour didn't provide any promising candidates. She first thought that a blonde eating by himself might be it, but then two sailors joined him at his table. A minute later the blonde was chatting away with a lively grin on his goateed face, his posture relaxed.

"Tch," she muttered; Kikiri looked up at her once and then went back to his nap.

The room cleared a second time and Asterra glanced at the clock. Two o'clock. She had 30 minutes until she had to give a name. _Come on, come on,_ she thought. _I know you have to eat lunch sometime._

A crackling voice spoke from the speakers. "Attention, crew and applicants. We will be arriving in Dolle Harbor in about 30 minutes. Applicants, please do not forget to make your decision."

The third group filed into the mess hall carrying trays with steaming bowls. Sailors slid into a seat, following a routine, a seating arrangement that had been established by days, weeks, months at sea. All except one.

_Hello,_ Asterra thought as she spotted a young man with brown hair look around for a place to sit, tray in hand. This one didn't know the seating arrangement by heart-he was new to the system. She zeroed in on him as he finally sat down at the empty half of a table. Sitting at the other end of the table was a particularly lively bunch of sailors. As soon as he sat down, the two sailors nearest to him turned their heads, then turned in towards the conversation, showing their backs to the lone diner.

She continued to observe him for the next few minutes. During the time period none of the other sailors invited him to join their conversation. Asterra didn't know the inner workings of a ship's crew, but every other sailor she had seen today was a part of some group, some conversation, even if they looked like new members. But that wasn't happening with this guy. Nobody beckoned him to come over and sit with them. He ate his meal in silence at his empty end of the table.

Asterra checked the clock. 2:25pm. Her decision was due in 5 minutes. At this point this lone diner was her best bet. She took out her pen and paper to scribble down his name, but her wrist stopped as soon as she touched the point of the pen to the paper.

What was his name?

She looked at him again, but his sitting position made his nametag unreadable. And he was still eating, which meant he wasn't going to be turning any time soon. She jabbed Kikiri. "Hey, get up," she hissed. Kikiri drowsily looked at her and she beckoned at the lone diner with her head. "Go find out his name."

Kikiri yawned and stretched, then turned on his side. "No."

"Ki-Are you kidding me?!" she hissed. "Why?"

"I'm tired."

"Tired? Don't you think that my entrance to the Hunter Exam is a little more urgent than your napping needs?!"

"That is a very subjective statement," Kikiri yawned and set his head down. She poked him until he grumbled, "Can't it wait 5 minutes?"

"I don't have freaking five minutes! I need to turn in this paper in"-she glanced at the clock-"3 minutes!"

Kikiri didn't stir. _Dammit Kikiri,_ Asterra thought and poked him again. No response. _Fine then. Plan B it is._ "I'll get you some meat at the next butcher shop we see."

That woke him up. Kikiri's ears pricked up at the mentioning of the word "meat" and he shot up from his napping position. "Promise?" he asked.

"Promise," She replied and he jumped down her lap. He then dissolved into the shadows and crawled over to the stowaway. In a few moments he was back on the bench next to her.

"Seto," he whispered and Asterra scrawled down the name onto the piece of paper, muttering her thanks.

Just as she finished the last strokes of the final letter, a voice over the intercom announced, "Applicants, we have arrived at Dolle Harbor. Please take your decision to the disembarkation point."

Asterra put Kikiri on her shoulder and took her leave. A few seconds later she was out on the deck, where to her right there was a long line of people. A gangplank-a proper one that prevented people from falling out, not the one used before-connected the ship to the pier below. The captain stood at a point near the gangplank, taking pens and pieces of paper from applicants and giving out pieces of paper in exchange.

Asterra stepped in line and a minute later she was giving the captain her decision as well as the pen. Captain Rilto took both, opened up the folded piece of paper and read it. Then he took out a piece of paper from his left coat pocket and gave it to her. She gulped-the captain had taken a piece of paper out of his right pocket for the person in front of her-then calmed herself. Her answer was logical, based on observations and evidence. At best it was correct, at worst it was an incorrect educated guess. And that was better than a random guess in her mind.

She accepted the piece of paper, put it in the pocket of her hoodie and walked down the gangplank. Her legs itched to run, but they couldn't because of the person who was walking slowly in front of her. So she settled for taking in her new surroundings.

Dolle Harbor had the same layout as Essel, just on a larger scale. Concrete connected the town to the sea; workers unloaded boxes from merchant ships docked at piers. Large red-roofed stores and multi-story buildings bordered hugged the harbor and followed its crescent shape. Beyond the grey of the harbor town were rolling hills, dark green with the leaves of trees that grew in the area.

"I wonder if the rabbits in those forests are tasty?" Kikiri murmured by her ear.

"I'm sure they are," she replied absentmindedly.

"And you are going to get me meat at the first butcher shop you see, right?"

"You can have whatever you want as long as I can afford it. So don't expect a filet mignon."

Asterra felt Kikiri bounce around on her shoulder, squeaking giddily, and shook her head. That Dokujo and his food.

The person in front of her stepped onto the pier and her pace quickened. Almost there. Almost there. Despite herself she felt a giddiness well up within her.

Asterra added a jump to her last step and her black sneakers hit the grey concrete of the pier.

And just like that, she was officially in Dolle Harbor-the harbor closest to the Hunter Exam site.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! As always, constructive criticism and comments are appreciated.**

**People interested in why Asterra's mom is an anthropologist rather than a sociologist, read on.**

**Moire: I did a little research on anthropology vs sociology after reading your quote. Sociology is indeed the study of social relationships, and it focuses on modern societies and their social problems like crime and unemployment. Anthropology has a lot of subfields and ones like sociocultural anthropology (studying cultures and focusing on social organization and kinships) can overlap with sociology. The big difference between the two seems to be that sociology tends to focus on modern societies, while sociocultural anthropology tends to focus on "other" cultures. Asterra's parents both focused on "other cultures" and traveled frequently to study different cultures, which is why I decided to keep Asterra's mom as an anthropologist as opposed to a sociologist.**


	3. Quizzes and Beasts, Part I

**Hey guys, I'm back with some more.**

**Enjoy the chapter :)**

* * *

The applicants that had gathered in Dolle Harbor were much more interesting to look at for Asterra than the applicants that had gathered at Essel. The applicants here had a more varied look to them; not everybody dressed in jean jackets and sported a body scarred from more than their fair share of fights. Now she saw togas, gladiator armor, _gi_ -style clothing, long hair, and a couple of female applicants too.

But as much as the new variety of people fascinated Asterra, she had to focus on the two most pressing tasks that had been set out for her the moment she had arrived at this harbor. Those two tasks were: one, familiarizing herself with the new area (in all of her years of traveling with her parents she had never been to the region around Dolle Harbor) and two, finding her way to the exam site that, according to a flier that had been sent to her earlier, was somewhere in the Zaban district. And to do both things she needed to find another map, since the one she had brought with her had been ruined by her little swim earlier in the day.

She looked around for a tourist center or a convenience store-both usually set out maps of the surrounding area that tourists could take as needed. None were present; but there was a large billboard with what looked like a map on it in the distance. It would have to do.

After a minute or so of walking she reached the map-board she had seen. The board itself was massive: it was about three times her height vertically and maybe four times her height horizontally. There was a large map of the area around Dolle Harbor painted on the board. Each district had a dotted line to show its borders and a small text box to show its name. She looked around the board until a red star labeled "You are here" caught her eye. It was placed in the bottom corner of the area labeled "Dolle Harbor." Next she looked for the Zaban district and found it on the right side of the map.

"Buses going to Zaban City, right here!" a voice called out and she turned to her right. Sure enough there were yellow city buses parked at what looked like a bus station. People who she assumed were Hunter Exam applicants boarded the buses.

"Well, there's that," Asterra muttered to herself, then took out the note Captain Rilto had given to her from her pocket. _Let's see what you have to say,_ she said as she unfolded the piece of paper. Two sentences were written on the page with rough and barely legible letters.

_Don't get on the buses. Make your way towards the cedar tree at the top of the hill if you want to even have a chance of reaching the exam site._

Cedar tree? Asterra looked up at the map, wondering if this tree was an important enough landmark to show on the map. It was; in the upper left hand area of the map there was a small tree symbol painted above a row of three houses. Asterra looked took a few steps back and looked up and left. Sure enough, on a particularly high mountain, there was a large cedar that stood proudly above all other trees. There was just one problem: that tree was in the complete opposite direction of Zaban district.

"Hey Kikiri," Asterra called as she walked towards the billboard again.

"Yeah?"

"Remember that flier we got about where to go for the Hunter Exam?"

Kikiri nodded. "It told us to go to Zaban, didn't it?"

"Yeah. But the note from the captain says that I should go towards the cedar tree instead."

Kikiri looked at the map. "That's in the complete opposite direction."

"Exactly."

"Well, don't forget, you could always be wrong."

"Gee, Kikiri. Thanks." Asterra continued looking back and forth, from map board to the note to map board again. Which source of information was she supposed to trust? Captain Rilto's note, which had a possibility of being the wrong set of directions? Or the flier in the mail, which-

Wait a minute.

Now that she thought about it, was there even a guarantee that the flier was right? Everything she had gone through today until now—the gangplank event, the "Find the Stowaway" game—seemed to be tailored to lessening the number of applicants. What if that flier had also been meant to throw off some applicants? That meant that trusting the captain's note was the right way to go. But the note also had the possibility of being wrong.

Asterra's head slumped forward slightly. She could stand here forever mulling over the information she had been given. Reasoning, doubting, reasoning, doubting, her thoughts spiraling only to return to the original two choices: cedar tree or buses. But eventually she would have to pick one to go with, whether it was the right way or the wrong way. She looked at the note again.

_Don't get on the buses. Make your way towards the cedar tree at the top of the hill if you want to even have a chance of reaching the exam site._

Ugh. That wording towards the end made her want to go towards the cedar tree, but what if that was a phrase that had been put in there to make her think that and possibly go down the wrong road?

As logic mercilessly dragged her thoughts in circles, she saw three people approach and start looking at the map-billboard in her peripheral vision. They were either tourists or applicants, most likely the latter. They didn't have enough suitcases to be tourists.

"Well that's weird," a young man's voice said.

"Why?" a boy's voice asked.

"The flier I received said that the exam site was in Zaban district. And we're here right now." The sound of a finger tapping once against wood. "That cedar tree is in the complete opposite direction of Zaban."

Asterra's ears perked at the words, doubting her hearing for a moment. Did that man really just say "cedar tree"?

"Are you sure you heard him correctly?" a voice different from the other two said.

"Yeah. He definitely said 'Go to the cedar tree.'" The boy's voice spoke again.

There it was again—"cedar tree."

She turned towards the source of the voices. The one closest to her was an impossibly tall man in a dark blue suit and short spiky hair. A red and black briefcase with diamond-shaped patterns sat on the floor next to his shoes. Next to him stood a young boy shorter than her with longer black spiky hair dressed in a green jacket and green shorts. He sported a yellow-colored backpack that had what looked like a fishing rod sticking out of it. Beyond the boy stood a blonde-haired applicant about her age and a little taller than her, wearing white clothes and, over it, a blue tabard with orange designs. A grey messenger bag was slung across his chest.

Asterra cocked her head as she set her eyes on the last person. She couldn't tell if the blonde was a guy or a girl. The applicant had short hair in a feminine cut but didn't seem to have the curves that a girl about her age would probably have. So, a he…? Then again, who was she to talk? Despite being sixteen years old her body didn't look it. Asterra had a lean, athletic build: her chest was flat and what slight curves she had were covered up by her hoodie.

The blonde looked down pensively, hand to chin in a classic thinking pose. "I see…" the blonde muttered.

Those three were not on the ship she had come in; she was sure of it. Asterra would have remembered these three if she had because they looked so…normal. Like people she might come across in the streets of a peaceful town. They would have stuck out like sore thumbs among the former convicts she had sailed in with.

So they must have received that piece of information from a different source in a different manner. Which meant that people other than Captain Rilto were distributing that specific piece of information. At this point, with her mind going in circles, she had nothing to lose. So she took the plunge and asked, "Hey, were you guys told to go to the cedar tree too?"

The three turned towards her and she could now observe their faces. The boy in green had a kind, childish face with warm brown eyes. The male in the blue suit looked much older than her, perhaps in his mid to late twenties, and wore small, round glasses. He gaped momentarily, then snapped his mouth shut. The blonde had grey eyes and an androgynous face.

"Were you eavesdropping on us?" the tall man asked, his face etched with suspicion.

"You're all standing close to me and talking at a normal volume; it was hard _not_ to overhear your conversation," she replied.

The tall man opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the boy in green. "Did someone tell you to go to the cedar tree too?"

"Yeah." Asterra held up the note.

"Don't get on the buses. Make your way towards the cedar tree at the top of the hill if you want to even have a chance of reaching the exam site," the blonde read. "Where did you get this note?"

"The captain of the ship I was on gave it to me."

"The captain? The captain of the ship we came on told us to go to the cedar tree too." The boy turned to the tall man. "See? Maybe the captain was telling the truth."

"Wait a second, Gon," the tall man replied. "For all we know she could giving us false information." He glared at Asterra.

She shrugged. "Maybe."

"What did you have to do to get that information?" The tall guy's voice took on an interrogative tone.

Asterra's eyes narrowed. The tall one had every right to be suspicious of her, but his tone still annoyed her, tempted her to speak with an aggressive tone too. But she kept her voice neutral. "I had to figure out which of the crew was actually a stowaway and tell the captain. If I was right, the captain would give me directions to the exam site. If I was wrong, the captain would give me a note with directions to somewhere else."

"And were you right?"

"He didn't say."

A look of disbelief spread across his face. "What?"

"He just gave us a piece of paper and said we'd know if we were right by the end of the day if we followed the instructions on the note."

The tall guy's shoulders slumped. "What is up with this test…?"

"Find the exam site using a limited amount of information," the blonde said, arms crossed. "It's just one of the conditions we have to pass before entering the Hunter Exam."

"Hey, I-I knew that!" the tall guy retorted.

The boy in green suddenly spoke up. "Well, I'm going to go to that cedar tree. The captain must have had a reason to suggest that." And with that he started walking off down the path that extended to the left.

"Are you serious?" Tall man asked. "The bus to Zaban is about to leave; why don't we just take that?"

The boy in green didn't even turn around; he just waved back at the three.

"Man," the tall man facepalmed. "He's gotta learn that you can't trust everyone."

Suddenly the blonde started walking in the same direction too. "Hey, Kurapika!" the man in the suit called.

The teen replied, "Gon's behavior interests me more than the captain's advice and her note. I'll go with him."

Well that was unexpected. From the ages, Asterra had expected the guy in the suit to be the leader, the blonde to be the "lieutenant," the second-in-command, and the boy to be more of a follower that would stick around with those older than him. But the boy wasn't a follower—he was forging his own path, and now the blonde was following him too.

The leaving of the two applicants left just her and the tall guy standing in front of the map. The tall guy put the flier into his suit pocket, grumbling "Oh, is that so? Well, nice knowing you, then."

"You're not going with them?" she asked.

"Nope; I'm gonna take the buses." He picked up his briefcase and stomped off towards the buses.

She looked at the tall guy walking off towards the buses, then at the blonde and the boy that were starting to walk off in the other direction. She looked at the piece of paper again.

 _Aah, screw it,_ she thought. "Hey, Kikiri—which way do you want to go?"

"To the cedar tree. I don't like that guy in the suit."

"Why?"

"Didn't like the way he looked at you."

She looked at Kikiri. "Was he really looking at me that weirdly?" Kikiri nodded. "Well, ok then. To the cedar tree it is." She turned to the left and started walking in the same direction as the boy and the blonde.

" _Get numbers on your side, as quickly as possible; you can't win alone._ "

She blinked as her mother's words echoed in her head.

Was this a good time to start forming groups? Her mother had said that one of the best ways of increasing the chances of her passing was to make or join a group. Asterra looked up at the people ahead; they were still in sight and would continue to be if she kept walking at this pace.

Those two didn't look shady. From what she had heard from the conversation, they didn't seem like people with hidden agendas. Then again, that was a one, two minute conversation. She couldn't possibly get an accurate read in that short of a time period.

But they were going in the same direction as her, which meant they would all be meeting the same obstacles and challenges, assuming that there were any. And four heads were better than two in any situation – whether it was a mental challenge or a case of leaving a person behind to keep an enemy distracted long enough for the others to get away. _Although I guess that person could end up being me if I'm not careful,_ she thought. But nevertheless, there were luxuries that only traveling in a fairly large group could give.

"Kikiri, what do you think about working with those two?" she asked.

"They seem okay. I like them better than the guy in the suit."

Asterra nodded at the answer, taking it into consideration. Then she picked up her pace to catch up with the blonde and the boy, slowing down to a walk when she did. "I'm going this way too; mind if I join you guys?" she asked.

The blonde replied first. "I don't mind, provided Gon doesn't." He looked towards the boy. "What do you think?"

The boy turned around to face her and his big brown eyes regarded her evenly as he walked backwards. Asterra immediately started thinking of reasons to let her join. _I'm tough, I can read groups of peo-_

After a few moments he smiled, "Yeah, why not? You don't seem like a bad person."

What?

For a moment Asterra was dumbstruck. She had been dead sure that she would have to list the reasons why they should let her travel with them and had even come up with a couple on the fly too. But the boy hadn't asked why he should let her travel with them, asked her skill set, the merits. He had replied as if his hunch-based answer was the natural, obvious one. Asterra couldn't tell if he was kind or foolish. What kind of person based their judgment on whether or not a person seemed like a bad person?

Asterra looked to the blonde, who smiled and shook his head as if he were used to this boy's style of making decisions.

"Oh, ok then." The words clumsily stumbled out of her mouth. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," the black-haired boy smiled, turning back around. "By the way, I'm Gon!"

The blonde spoke to her next. "And I'm Kurapika."

"Call me Asterra," she replied.

"And I'm Kikiri!" Kikiri chirped from her shoulder.

"Wah!" Gon jumped and turned towards Kikiri. "You can talk?!"

Kikiri frowned. "Of course I can talk."

"Kikiri's a Dokujo; his kind's known for doing that," Asterra explained hurriedly before Kikiri had a chance to snap at the boy. The Dokujo didn't seem to realize that not many people had heard a Dokujo speak before; as a result he often went off on people who had a hard time grasping the concept.

"That is so cool!" Gon grinned.

Asterra and Kikiri were both taken aback by the comment. Not many people reacted like that in response to hearing Kikiri speak. "Thanks," Kikiri replied, a bit of embarrassment coloring his voice.

He had barely finished her words when a familiar man's voice reached everyone's ears. "HEEEY! WAIT UP!"

The three stopped and turned to see the young man in the suit sprinting to catch up with them.

Kikiri growled. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Leorio!" Gon yelled.

"Did the buses not work out?" Kurapika asked as a huffing and puffing-she assumed-Leorio caught up to them.

"Well, I knew you guys would be lonely without me, and it's no fun traveling alone," Leorio panted. "So, I thought I'd…stick with you guys for a while longer." He laughed with a conceit that irritated Asterra, and only after a few moments did he seem to notice her presence. "Wait, she's coming with us now?"

"Yeah! This is Asterra, and the Dokujo on her shoulder is Kikiri, who talks!" Gon replied.

"Hey," Asterra greeted.

"You kidding me? Gon, you can't just go trusting people without reason!" Leorio lectured.

Well, here was a person that thought like her. Good thing she had asked to join this group after he had left; she would probably still be fumbling for reasons to let her join if she hadn't.

Leorio turned to Kurapika. "And you! Why didn't you stop him?!"

"Gon said she didn't seem like a bad person," Kurapika replied with a shrug.

"And you bought that?"

"I did tell you that I'm following Gon because his behavior interests me, didn't I?" Kurapika asked back. "I'm not going to attempt to overturn one of his decisions if my goal is observing his behavior."

Leorio muttered darkly.

"Well, what's so bad about having Asterra join us?" Gon asked.

"I'm not saying that it's bad; I'm saying that you need to be more careful! Did you ask her why she wanted to join? How we would benefit?"

"Isn't that obvious? She wants to travel with us because she doesn't want to travel alone," Gon replied with a voice tinged with confusion, as if he didn't know why Leorio was asking him that. "And it's always fun to have more people."

Asterra's eyes widened slightly at his answer and upon hearing it, she felt a twinge of guilt. In those couple of seconds, his words had made her reasons for joining a group turn from logical to cold and slightly cruel.

Leorio stared at him, gawking, then straightened. "Hoo boy. Well, you know what? Whatever. It's done now." He turned to Asterra, who had been observing the whole conversation with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. "Don't try anything that'll make us regret letting you come with us."

"Nice to meet you too, Leorio," she replied dryly before the group started walking again.

=o=o=o=

They walked on a path of white snaked through long, lush grass that shone and rippled as the wind breathed onto them for some time before Gon broke the silence.

"Hey Asterra," Gon asked. "Why are you entering the Hunter Exam?"

"It's tradition," Asterra replied.

"Tradition?" Gon asked, cocking his head.

"Mmhmm. In my clan, when a kid turns 16 they participate in the following year's Hunter Exam in order to prove that they're capable adults. It's a coming of age ritual."

"Are you required to become a Hunter to become an adult?" Kurapika asked.

Asterra shook her head. "No, not really. As long as you complete at least three phases and come back alive, you're welcomed back and considered an independent adult. Becoming a Hunter is more of a bonus."

"So…your clan has a tradition of sending teens to die a premature death."

Asterra had never thought of it like that before, but perhaps from an outsider's point of view that was what her clan's tradition looked like. "Guess you could look at it like that."

"Do you have anybody left?" Leorio asked.

"Oh yeah, plenty. Death by Hunter Exam is pretty rare in my clan since we're well-trained."

"Trained?" Gon asked.

Asterra nodded. "Everybody in my clan, whether they're man or woman, has to undergo at least three years of military training. People usually start when they're twelve or thirteen. Any more is by choice."

Leorio gaped while Kurapika and Gon's eyes widened.

"It's a tradition left from the old days, when my clan was small and needed all the manpower it could scrape together to defend itself," Asterra explained. "But we still keep it going because it instills discipline and keeps us strong."

"How long did you train for?" Kurapika asked.

"I started when I was ten, so about six years."

A lack of questions made silence fill the air for a few moments, although Asterra thought she heard Leorio mutter "geez" under his breath.

Asterra broke the silence. "I've told you guys my reason; now tell me yours."

Gon was the first to reply. "My dad's a Hunter. I wanted to know what about the job could draw a dad away from his son, so I left Whale Island to take the exam."

Asterra blinked at the response. Had she heard him correctly? From his answer, she could deduce that Gon's father had left him to be a Hunter. If that was the case, then why had there had been no bitterness in his voice? Any other abandoned child of Hunters would have probably hated their parent(s) and the job that they had prioritized over their own child.

She turned to Leorio as he spoke next. "I'm in it to make money."

"Because…?"

"As long as I have money, I can buy anything," he laughed. "Nice cars, good alcohol…"

"Wow, he actually got worse," Kikiri muttered beside her ear. Asterra resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He was one of those money-grubbing types; a type that she at best felt nothing for and at worst nothing but disgust for.

She turned to Kurapika, who was the last to reply, "I wish to become a Blacklist Hunter."

Asterra raised an eyebrow. "Blacklist? Any specific target in mind?"

"The Phantom Troupe." For a moment so brief that Asterra doubted her eyes, Kurapika's grey eyes flashed a burning, vibrant scarlet.

"Phanto-aren't they class A criminals?" Asterra asked. "Criminals that even some of the top Hunters can't touch?"

"Doesn't mean they're gods," Kurapika said, a cold hardness in his voice. "They're still humans made of flesh and blood that can be hunted down."

 _Ok then._ "Fair enough," she replied with a shrug. "But for the record, I'm still going to keep my distance from them." _Because I enjoy living._

"That's fine with me; I never asked you to help," he said back coolly.

Asterra's eyes narrowed and she bit the inside of her lip, suppressing the urge to snap back in front of a concerned-looking Gon. The air was too tense to shoot back a hasty, clumsy argument out of spite. Plus Asterra needed to avoid infighting as much as possible, because the bonds between her and them were still too weak due to the fact she hadn't proven herself to them yet. It wasn't like she had teamed up with a fellow clan member (in fact, doing so was forbidden by tradition; if Asterra were to team up, it _had_ to be with non-clansmen for reasons unknown to her). One bad move and she could be kicked out, and where would that leave her? Asterra was confident in her skills, but a single soldier could not do what an army could; she was going to need a small army to get what she had come for.

For Asterra not only wanted to be recognized as an independent adult—she desperately needed a Hunter License as well. And to get one she had to get and keep numbers on her side, even if it meant biting her tongue at times like these.

* * *

**And so there we have it! Asterra has finally met up with the gang. I tried to keep them in-character as much as possible.**

**So basically Asterra's clan has national service that everybody—not just males—has to do it at one point in time before they go to the Hunter Exam. I've never seen soldier-type OCs in the HxH fanfics so I thought I'd give it a go.**

**Thanks for reading :)**


	4. Quizzes and Beasts, Part II

The rest of the hike was spent in silence. After Kurapika's words, the air had become so heavy that any attempt at breaking the silence would have seemed forced. So the four applicants continued to walk, and walk, and walk on the white path that snaked through a sea of green grass. Following the path for two hours, though, led them to a drastic change in scenery, from idyllic countryside to a run-down settlement devoid of greenery.

Asterra looked around. This was probably the town that had been represented by the three houses on the map billboard. It looked more like an overgrown slum than a town, though. Narrow streets wove in between buildings made up of rooms stacked on top of each other like wooden blocks, the ungraceful products of an attempt to build an apartment that would cram as many people as possible into a small area.

What struck her as odd, though, was the lack of life. At this time of day, these kinds of streets were usually busy. But the streets were devoid of anything and anyone save for a crow; not even stray dogs and cats scavenged trash cans for possible leftovers. It wasn't like there weren't any people, though. She could tell that from the way clothes dried on laundry lines that hung from window to window. If the town was truly abandoned, the clothes wouldn't have been there.

Long story short, there were people here; they were just hiding, refusing to come outside for reasons unknown.

A crow's call echoed through the street.

"This sure is a creepy place," Leorio noted. "There isn't a single person here."

"No; there's people here," Gon said.

As if that was the cue, the creaking sound of wooden doors opening sliced through the eerie silence of the town. The applicants' heads whirled to the side to see a set of wooden doors wide open. Two people dragged a wooden cart out of the doors, and it creaked with protest every time it hit a rough spot on the road. The two people stopped dragging the cart when it reached a position that blocked the applicants' way forward. Once the cart had stopped, figures filed out of the open doors.

"What's with this freak show?" Leorio asked.

"Freak show" was a pretty accurate description. A group of eleven people blocked their path forward. Ten of them wore white long-sleeved robes that completely covered the shape of the wearer's body. The faces of these ten were covered with white masks that had been simply carved: two eyes, one mouth, all circular so that they looked like they wore a perpetually surprised expression. Each of the people with the masks also had wild, medium length spiky hair of different colors. Six of the robed people stood on the cart, five of them holding musical instruments of some sort and one of them holding a crow.

In the middle of the group sat a wizened woman wearing a purple robe and a white-colored vest made of a thin cloth. Her grey hair was pulled back and a strand of big, spherical beads was strung around her neck. Her head rested on bony hands. "Exciting…" the old woman started.

"E-Exciting?" Leorio repeated.

"Exciting…" the old woman said again.

"Exciting…" Leorio gulped.

Then the old woman's eyes snapped open, bulging out of their sockets, and her mouth opened to a size that Asterra did not think was possible, revealing two cylindrical canine teeth reminiscent of a hippo's.

"Exciting two-choice quiz!" the old woman hollered at a volume that seemed impossible for one who looked so frail.

The statement that had come out of the blue was followed up with a dissonant military fanfare played by the people with instruments. All four applicants just stood there, eyes wide, not knowing quite how to react.

_The hell?_

There was caw from the crow held in one of the masked people's arms and the fanfare came to a stop. The silence did not last long, as the old woman started speaking. "All of you are heading towards that single cedar tree, aren't you?" she asked. "In order to get to that tree, you must pass through this town by completing a single-question quiz."

"Whoa whoa wait a sec!" Leorio interrupted. "What's going on here?"

The woman ignored him. "After I administer the question, you'll have 5 seconds to think and state your answer. Give the wrong answer and you'll disqualified on the spot."

A quiz. Ok. Nothing extremely taxing. Asterra was good at quizzes-when the questions were about history.

"I see. So this is part of the Hunter Exam as well," Kurapika said with a small smile.

"Oh is that what this is? Well I happen to be a quiz expert. " Leorio set down his briefcase. "But seriously? Only one question?"

"You will answer only by saying the number 1 or 2. Any other answer will be seen as incorrect," the old woman continued.

"Hold on!" Leorio interjected. "We're all sharing a problem? So if he answers incorrectly"-Leorio pointed to Kurapika-"I'm disqualified too?"

"Glad to see the vote of confidence," Asterra said.

"As if that would happen!" Kurapika replied, crossing his arms. "In fact, the likelihood of the opposite happening is so high that it makes me want to cry."

Asterra chuckled as Leorio growled, "What was that?!"

"But you know…" Gon interjected. "This way's easier, since only one of us needs to know the answer. I like it this way, since I'm not really good at quizzes."

"Gon's got a point," Asterra said as she pointed a thumb at Gon. Then in the next moment she felt Kikiri bristle up against her neck. "Kikiri?"

"That guy decided to show himself," he growled as he looked behind her.

"The guy that's been following us from the port?" Asterra murmured, turning around to face the potential threat that she and Kikiri had detected an hour and a half ago. They had been waiting for the stalker to make an aggressive move of some sort, but he had made none. So they had decided against making any aggressive moves against him as well, choosing to only stay aware of his movements.

"Hey, hurry it up, will you?" a man's nasal voice said. A man with a misshapen nose in white gi-like clothes walked up to them. A green belt of cloth strapped two swords to his back. "Or I'll answer the question first."

"Who are you?" Leorio asked.

"He's the guy that's been following us all the way from the port," Gon replied.

Asterra glanced at the boy in surprise. He had known that they had been followed? She had thought that she and Kikiri were the only ones that had known that.

"Huh? Seriously?" Leorio asked.

"Sorry kid," the man apologized with a voice that didn't sound very apologetic. "I happened to overhear your conversation."

"What's it going to be?" the old woman asked.

"He seems to be eager to do it," Leorio said. "I say we let him go first. That way, we'll know what kind of question to expect."

Gon, Kurapika and Asterra nodded in agreement and took a few steps back from the cart. The stalker took a few steps forward and a masked person came over to set a buzzer down in front of the stalker.

"Here is your question," the old woman started. A bike horn cried out and a crow cawed. "Villains have captured your mother and lover, and you can only save one. Select '1' to save your mother, select '2' to save your lover."

The group of four applicants gasped. "What kind of question is that?!" Asterra exclaimed.

"That is not a quiz question!" Leorio added.

The stalker grinned lopsidedly and rang the buzzer without waiting for even a second to pass. _What?!_ Asterra thought. No way. There was no way he could have an answer to that question.

"The answer is 1," he said.

"Oh? Why do you say that?" the old woman asked.

"Because you can't replace your mother but you can always find another lover."

"What?" Leorio exclaimed.

 _That asshole,_ Asterra thought as her fingers curled into a fist.

The crow cawed and the old woman pointed her thumb to the path behind her. "You may pass."

Cries of disbelief erupted from Asterra and Leorio.

The stalker smirked back at them. "You just have to tell the old woman what she wants to hear," he replied. "Adios." With that, he ran around the cart and continued on his way.

"Ok, that's bull!" Leorio yelled. "How was that the right answer?! We're supposed to give the answer the old woman wants? That's considered correct?!"

Only silence responded to Leorio's enraged question and he threw up his hands. "I'm not putting up with this sham." He picked up his briefcase. "I'll go find another route."

Leorio hadn't even taken three steps when his leaving was interrupted by the old woman's yell. "It's too late! Refuse to take the quiz and you're disqualified!"

Leorio whirled on the woman with a face that made him look like he was ready to blow up, screaming, "Are you kidding me?! Different people would answer differently; there is no right answer to that question!"

"No right answer…" Kurapika's eyes widened and he turned to Leorio. "Leorio!"

"Wait!" the old woman interjected.

Kurapika turned back around.

"Not another word from you," the old woman said. "Say anything other than the answer and you're immediately disqualified!"

Asterra looked to Kurapika. The old woman had stopped him when he had been about to say something…what had he figured out?

"Here is your question," the old woman started, followed by the sound of a bike horn and the caw. "Your son and daughter have been kidnapped."

Asterra narrowed her eyes. She didn't like this question already.

"You can only rescue one of them. Select '1' to save your son and '2' to select your daughter."

A vein popped on Leorio's forehead and he stomped off to the side. Everyone else stayed where they were and looked down to think for the five seconds they had been given.

"5!"

Son or daughter.

"4!"

Son or daughter. Asterra barely heard the whoosh of air made by Leorio swinging down the piece of wood he had grabbed.

"3!"

No. She couldn't choose.

"2!"

There was no logical way to go around this. No amount of reasoning could justify which to save and which to leave behind.

She bit her lip. There was no right answer.

"1!"

There was no right answer; therefore, there was nothing to say. Asterra clamped her mouth shut.

Nobody else attempted to speak.

"Bzzt! Time's up!"

The woman had barely finished her words when a roar erupted from where Leorio had been standing. Asterra whirled around to see Leorio leaping towards the old woman with the long, staff-like piece of wood in hand.

"Leorio!" Asterra yelled. The masked people rushed away from Leorio's target, tripping over their own long robes and each other's feet. However, the old woman refused to move, instead sitting there stoically with her head placed on her hands. As if she thought that Leorio wouldn't hit her.

Asterra could tell, though, that he was going to. He was moving too fast and his movements were too deliberate and too strong. Social norms deemed that elders were supposed to be treated with respect. But the current Leorio had tossed aside that norm the moment he had leaped towards the old woman.

 _Shit_ , Asterra thought and lunged towards the old woman. Even if that had been the crappiest quiz question in the history of quizzes, that didn't give Leorio the right to beat the old woman. But a fraction of a second later a horrible realization came to her-she couldn't make it. She had acted too late; it was going to be impossible to be able to get an arm, much less her body, in between the piece of wood and the old woman. The image of wood slamming into the woman's forehead popped up into her head, followed by one of the old woman-

_CRACK!_

The sound of wood hammering on wood blasted through Asterra's imaginings, shattering the train of mental images running through her head. The sound yanked her back to reality, to what her physical eyes were seeing. And what she saw made her jaw drop momentarily.

Kurapika had beaten her to the punch. The blonde stood between Leorio and the old woman, holding over his head a pair of wooden swords connected at the bottom of the hilts by string; the weapon looked like the end result of somebody replacing the bar portion of a set of nunchucks wooden swords and the chain portion with durable rope. A piece of wood from Leorio's weapon sailed through the air and landed a few feet away from the taller man.

"Get the hell out of the way, Kurapika!" Leorio snarled into Kurapika's face, pushing down on his piece of wood that was on top of the blonde's wooden swords. "I need to teach that hag a lesson!"

"Calm down, Leorio!" Kurapika yelled back and shoved Leorio's weapon away with a sharp push.

Leorio stumbled back a step, then got right back into Kurapika's face. "How the hell am I supposed to calm down in a situation like this?!"

Kurapika didn't yield; he snapped right back, "Are you trying to waste our correct response?!"

Silence.

Leorio stepped back, eyes round. He blinked. "Correct response?"

Kurapika swung his swords diagonally. "We gave the correct answer to that impossible question - silence."

"Silence? How is that an answer?"

Kurapika put his wooden swords away and continued his explanation. "You hit the nail on the head a few seconds ago-just like you said, this quiz had no right answer. However, the rule was that we could only answer 1 or 2. Since neither of those choices were correct, we couldn't respond; therefore, silence was the only answer we could give."

"But what about the other guy?" Leorio asked, pointing in the direction the stalker had gone.

"She never said that he gave the right answer; she only said 'You may pass'. In other words"-he turned to the old woman and pointed at the path behind her-"this path is the wrong path, isn't it?"

For a moment, the old woman's expression didn't change. Then her serious look was cracked by the corner of her mouth rising into a small smile. "Precisely." She stood up and walked over to the doors that the group in front of them had walked out from. Two people in white robes dragged open the heavy doors to reveal a long, dark tunnel with a pinprick of light at the end. "This leads directly to the top. Walk two ours and you'll reach it."

"Oh, so that's what this was about…" Leorio said as he, Kurapika and Asterra peeked into the dark tunnel.

The old woman continued. "A couple lives in the cabin beneath that tree. They serve as Navigators. If you meet their standards, I believe that they will guide you to the exam site."

Leorio's piece of wood clattered to the floor, and its previous owner took a few steps towards the old woman. "Gran, I'm sorry for my rudeness," Leorio apologized, bowing his head.

The old woman shook her head. "Don't be; I don't mind. I do this job because I want to meet people like you." She turned to him with a warm, grandmotherly smile spread across her wrinkled face. "Do your best to become a good Hunter, all right?"

Leorio straightened and laughed shyly at the old woman's words.

In the next moment there was a sigh and the sound of somebody dropping to the ground. "Man, I can't think of an answer," said Gon.

Leorio started laughing outright while Kurapika tried to suppress his laughter.

"You were still trying to think of an answer?" Asterra asked, walking over to Gon.

"You know you can stop now, right?" Leorio laughed.

"Huh, why?" Gon asked.

"Because the quiz is over," Kurapika said.

"I know that." Gon sat up with his legs crossed. "But what if I really ran into a situation like that and I could only save one person…What should I do?"

The light atmosphere from before darkened slightly the moment Gon's question dissipated into the air.

"It wouldn't be right to just choose one…But one day, I might have to make that choice."

Asterra tucked her hands in her hoodie pockets. Gon had a point. In the event she ran into a situation similar to the one described by the old woman, what would she do?

Unknown to the group of four, the true purpose of this test had been to do just that: make the applicants imagine themselves in a cruel situation where the decision made could be both right and wrong. To outsiders, the world of Hunters was alluring; it was gilded with riches and romance and adventure. But outsiders never looked closely enough to see the dark threads were interwoven into the glamour. They never looked closely enough to see that the world that Hunters lived in was not only alluring but also cruel and merciless. Hunters had to be prepared to face the worst possible scenarios, like the one given as the quiz question, because harsh reality struck without warning. And all Hunters needed to be ready for the times it did, because it was those unexpected strikes from reality made the path of life diverged in the cruelest and most heart-crushing of ways.


	5. Quizzes and Beasts, Part III

"Man, it sure got dark quick," Leorio said as he walked on a path that he could barely see, following his companions that were beginning to melt into the darkness because they were so far ahead. "'Walk two hours' she said. Two hours was two hours ago, dammit!"

"Would it kill you to stop complaining?" Asterra turned her head and asked Leorio.

"You know what, Asterra? I'll complain as much as I want, when I want!" Leorio spat back.

Asterra faced forward again and rolled her eyes, imagining ways she could get Leorio to shut up without slowing him down (which meant kicking him in the groin, her first idea, was a definite no). Apparently she had yet to accustom herself to all the complaining that non-Resca did. During the six years of Training, any complaining from one trainee had resulted in the whole group running through plains and forests all through the night instead of satisfying the bodily need for sleep.

Something rectangular with words painted on it caught her eye. It was another "beware of magical beasts" sign. That was the fifth one they had come across during their hike to the cedar tree.

Leorio must have seen the same sign a few seconds later, because she heard him mutter, "Another 'beware of magical beasts sign'? How are we supposed to get to the Hunter Exam at this rate…?" Then he suddenly hollered, "I'm hungry! I need to take a dump! I need to take a piss!"

Asterra grimaced and curled her fingers into a fist.

"Leorio!" Gon yelled. "We'll leave you behind if you don't hurry up!"

"Why not just leave him?" Kikiri asked. "I'm sure the magical beasts would like a snack."

Before Gon could answer, Kurapika's voice said, "Look—there's the cabin."

Sure enough, there was a cabin nestled at the roots of the biggest cedar tree she had ever seen. It looked to be a moderately sized cabin with two stories, but looked to be devoid of inhabitants—the lights were out.

"All right, finally!" Leorio said. "Let's go see these Navigators and have them take us to the exam site already!"

Asterra found herself looking around the forest with an unshakable bad feeling sitting in her gut. Why were the lights out? If these so-called Navigators were supposed to help worthy applicants reach the exam site, then wouldn't they stay up all night with the lights on, waiting for applicants to arrive?

They walked up to the front door and Leorio knocked. "Hello? Anyone home?" No response. Leorio grasped the knob and opened the door. "We're coming in."

The group walked in.

The room was dark and sparse in terms of furniture and rugs. But on the back wall of the room there was a window that moonlight could sneak through to illuminate the back quarter of the room. And did it illuminate a wholly unexpected scene.

A dark-haired man lay on the floor, bleeding from his shoulder blade and knee area. Looming over him was a bipedal tailed creature about eight feet tall. Coarse yellow fur covered its torso and head while its limbs were covered with finer brown fur. The creature must have had heard them gasp, because it turned head towards them. "Kiri-kiri-kiri," the creature laughed, his turning revealing a fox-like face. Thin, long ears tipped with black sprouted from the top of his head and its black eyes glowed with a sinister light.

"A Magical Beast!" Leorio yelled.

"No, really?" Asterra replied, knees bent and ready for whatever was coming next. "Never would've guessed!"

"That's not just any Magical Beast-it's a Kiriko!" Kurapika drew his wooden swords. "They're extremely intelligent shape-shifters that can take human form!"

The Kiriko turned around fully, revealing that one of his hands held a red-haired woman by her throat. The woman, whose face was decorated with simple, thin line-tattoos, gripped the creature's large hands with her own, trying to keep herself from being strangled.

"There's a lady in his arms!" Gon yelled.

"And the guy on the floor needs medical attention…" Leorio observed.

The Kiriko grinned, showing fearsome teeth, then pivoted. There was a crash as the Kiriko leaped through the window, sending shards of glass flying in all directions. Gon, Kurapika and Asterra rushed to the broken window, while Leorio knelt by the man on the floor.

"P-please…" a weak voice said-it belonged to the man on the floor. His hand was outstretched towards them and the window. "Please save my wife…"

Leorio, who had a concerned look on his face, opened his briefcase and started taking out a syringe and filling it with a liquid.

Kurapika dropped his messenger bag to the floor. "Leorio, take care of him!" he yelled and leaped out the window after Gon.

"Got it!" he yelled back and turned his attention to the patient. Asterra looked back. Leorio moved about with a certain calm and his movements were precise and practiced. It looked like he knew what he was doing, and he seemed to have everything he needed in that briefcase.

She wasn't needed here.

Asterra placed her hand on an area of the window sill and vaulted over the edge. Landing on the balls of her feet allowed her to transition smoothly and quickly from landing to moving. A forward lunge later her strides were accelerating into a sprint in order to catch up to the two that had gone ahead. A few moments later she did and wordlessly took her place next to Kurapika. Both of them followed Gon, who seemed to know where the Kiriko was despite the fact that the creature was currently a mere shadow in the dark canopy of the forest. Asterra wondered if the boy had the eyes of a cat.

Then in the next moment Gon leaped up into the air, landing on a branch a few feet above him. He continued to ascend the trees until he was in the canopy level and was soon leaping through the trees alongside the Kiriko. "Kiriko!" Gon yelled. "Let her go!"

The Kiriko grinned and accelerated. "Take her from me, if you can!"

Gon gaped at his words, which proved to be enough of a distraction to make the boy miss the next branch and fall to the floor with a thud that made Asterra wince. She and Kurapika looked behind to see Gon quickly recover, bouncing back up to his feet as if he were made of rubber. He was running alongside the two older applicants again in no time. "Wow!" he exclaimed. "He can talk!"

"The Kiriko are capable of human speech," Kurapika informed him.

"Really? That makes things a lot easier!" Gon leaped up through the trees again with his superhuman jumping skills, reaching the canopy and shooting through the trees to catch up with the Kiriko. When the Magical Beast was in earshot, he yelled, "Heey! Stupid Kiriko!"

The Kiriko turned around to see that Gon had shot up to a position above him. The creature gaped at the boy's speed, then saw Gon swing the rod over his head. The fishing rod connected with the Kiriko's skull with a crack, the strike dazing the Kiriko. The creature loosened his grip on the unconscious woman, who plummeted through the branches.

"Kurapika!" Gon yelled.

Kurapika leaped up to meet her and catch the woman bridal style. He landed on his feet and breathed a sigh of relief. "He's so reckless…" Kurapika muttered.

"Nice catch." Asterra said as she caught up to him.

The blonde shot her a look that disapproved of her comment's timing.

She shrugged back. "Just saying."

Back in the canopy the Kiriko had managed to land on a thick branch and regained his balance. "Stupid kid," the Kiriko muttered, clutching his forehead with his hand-like paws. "You'll pay for this!"

The Kiriko leaped off and Gon started chasing after the Kiriko that sped off deeper into the forest. "You got this?" Asterra beckoned with her chin at the woman. Kurapika nodded and the girl ran off in the direction Gon had gone.

The moon was full that night, which meant it was giving off the greatest amount of light it could. But how bright the moon was didn't matter when the leaves that crowned the tall blocked almost all of the light, making the canopy a dimly lit zone. That made it all the more harder for Asterra to follow Gon, who was small and moving at blurring speeds. Soon she was relying more on her ears than her eyes, following the sound of leaves and branches being whipped about by the pursuer and pursued.

Then she vaguely saw the small figure that was Gon leap higher into the canopy.

"Gon, wait!" she yelled, but Gon had completely melted into the shadows. She kept running, combing the canopy for any sight of Gon, listening hard to pick up any sounds of pursuit. "Gon?" she yelled again, looking, listening. But there was no sign, no sound of pursuit. They were gone; the forest had swallowed them up.

"Anything, Kikiri?" she asked. Kikiri replied with a no.

Asterra slowed down to a stop; there was no use running when she didn't know if she was even going in the right direction. Only one exasperated word escaped Asterra's lips as she looked up into the canopy, hands on hips.

"Dammit."

=o=o=o=

A good seventy yards back, Kurapika waited for the woman to regain consciousness in a clearing. When she finally did, Kurapika asked her if she was injured anywhere.

"I'm okay," the woman replied. "But what about my husband? How is he?"

"Don't worry; our friend is taking care of him," Kurapika reassured her.

The woman gripped the front of Kurapika's tabard. "Please, take me to my husband."

Kurapika eyes widened as he looked down at the woman's forearm, which had been exposed by her gripping his tabard. Intricate black tattoos—lines, waves, and geometric shapes—danced across her arm and covered almost every inch of her skin.

"Those tattoos…" Kurapika started.

The woman's eyes widened and she quickly let go of Kurapika's tabard, turning away from him to hide her arm. She looked back nervously at him.

"You—" Kurapika started to say but was interrupted by a familiar voice calling his name. Kurapika turned around to see Leorio jogging towards him.

"You okay?" Leorio asked.

"Leorio…?" Kurapika asked, confusion in his voice.

"Whew…guess you guys are all right."

Kurapika's eyes narrowed. "How is that man you were treating?"

"Yeah, no worries," Leorio replied. "The wound wasn't as deep as it looked, so I gave him some first aid and some painkillers. Guy's fast asleep in his cabin."

"Is that so." A pale hand tightened the grip on the wooden sword.

In the next moment one of the wooden swords was flying through the air at Leorio. There was a thud as the flat edge of the blade smacked into the man's forehead. Leorio stumbled back a few steps, holding his head in his hands and grimacing in pain. The wooden sword returned to Kurapika's hand with a clack.

Leorio did not protest angrily. Instead, his shoulders quavered as he laughed. "How did you know?"

Kurapika turned around to see Leorio's face stretch vertically, morphing into a fox-like face. Long ears tipped with black sprouted from his temples, the blue suit turned into yellow fur, and he grew in height by several feet. "How did you know I was an impostor?" The Kiriko asked in a voice that was now very different from Leorio's.

"I didn't think you were one," Kurapika admitted. "I told Leorio to take care of the injured man, and he consented. I hit Leorio for foolishly leaving an injured man on his own when there was the possibility of there being another Kiriko that could come and attack him."

The Kiriko laughed again; in the next moment, he leaped out of sight.

Kurapika looked back to the woman. "Now, I need you to answer a question," Kurapika said evenly, placing the blade of one of his swords against the woman's throat. Gone was the worry that had been in his eyes, replaced by cold suspicion.

The woman didn't stammer out an answer or protest. Instead, a wide, amused grin spread across her face.

=o=o=o=

Gon landed lightly on a thick branch. The Kiriko he was chasing should have ended up around here…

The sound of rustling leaves reached his keen ears and he whirled toward the source of it to see a shadow of the Kiriko leapt into sight.

He zeroed in on the shadow. "Wait!"

The shadow didn't wait; it leaped through the trees. Gon pursued it, jumping and swinging from branch to branch at a breakneck pace. The Kiriko dived into foliage, and Gon followed—

—only to realize upon breaking through the foliage that there was no branch to catch him. A wide open space loomed beneath him, bordered only by a cliff face and the ground that was a quarter of a mile beneath him.

Gravity tightened its hold on the boy and threw him downwards.

Gon twisted his body in midair and swung his fishing pole. The line swizzled, flying off the reel towards the top of the cliff. The hook at the end of it managed to reach a branch and wrapped around it. The line pulled Gon towards the cliff face. The boy landed on his feet, situated himself, then leaped. The strong jump sent him rocketing up, towards the cliff edge, and he landed back onto safe ground. He hit the earth with steady feet, eyes on the lookout for the bipedal silhouette of the Kiriko.

The sound of laughter drew his attention to the top of a tree.

"For a kid, you're pretty fast," the Kiriko said. "Didn't expect you'd land a blow on me."

Gon cocked his head in confusion, then started looking around. The Kiriko took the chance to jump off the tree and land right in front of Gon with a thud. It raised its arm and its claws elongated, turning into wickedly sharp blades. "I'll show you how high the price is for that achievement!"

Gon looked up at the Kiriko and made no move to raise the fishing pole to defend himself.

"Kiri-kiri-kiri-kiri!" the Kiriko laughed. The claws descended, a silver blur in the dark night, at a vicious speed that appeared to be unstoppable by anyone or anything. Still Gon made no move to defend himself; rather, he just asked one simple question.

"Who are you?"

The claws stopped a hair's breadth away from Gon's nose.

"You're not the one I hit earlier," Gon continued. "Are you his friend?"

The Kiriko's eyes, wide with surprise, blinked once, twice. "How can you tell that I'm not the same one?" it asked.

"Because you faces are completely different. And you're voice is a little higher and thinner than the other Kiriko's."

The Kiriko blinked again and pulled back his hand and retracted his claws. Then the Kiriko placed its hand on top of its forehead. Then the beast's whole body shook as it guffawed.

"Did I say something funny?" Gon asked.

The Kiriko didn't, or rather couldn't, stop its laughter to answer Gon's question, which left the boy standing in front of the Magical Beast with his head cocked and a confused look on his face.

=o=o=o=

"Great, now what?" Asterra sighed as she kicked a small stone. After losing sight of Gon, she had decided to try to make her way back to the cabin. But the girl had shot herself in the foot beforehand-because she had spent all her running time focusing on Gon, she had not bothered to remember any landmarks or make some of her own. So now Asterra was stuck in this homogenous landscape with no idea where to go, hoping to come across some sort of marker that would point her the way back to the cabin.

Little did she know that predatory eyes observed her from a branch that was situated behind dense foliage.

The Kiriko grinned. It had come across the only girl in the group by pure luck after being chased away by the blonde. And now it was tailing her, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The girl's eyes passed over its hiding place and she turned her back to him. The beast grinned. This was too easy. With a flick of its wrist its claws lengthened. The Kiriko snuck around the foliage to an open branch, and lunged. The beast hurtled through the air, straight at the girl, claws ready to tear into the soft flesh of her back.

Asterra heard something whistling towards her and whirled around. Her eyes widened in shock as she took in the Kiriko hurtling at her. She dived to the side, narrowly avoiding the Kiriko's claws that thudded into the ground she had stood on nanoseconds before. The Kiriko saw her roll into a standing position and face him again, posture low and a grimace on her face. Sea green eyes regarded the beast with wariness. But the expression only lasted a second; in the next moment it fluidly transitioned from a look of concern to an insouciant smirk.

The Kiriko only had a moment feel confused before something he felt something hurtle into it from its left heel. A look down revealed a red-brown streak spiraling up its body at a blurring speed. The cordlike thing then tightened, binding the Kiriko's arms to its torso and its legs to each other. Then the beast felt pressure run across his chest and make it slightly more difficult to breathe.

The Kiriko toppled over with a thud, completely immobilized. Something sharp pricked the base of his neck for a few seconds.

Soft laughter spread through the clearing. "Gotcha." The Kiriko looked up to see the girl walking towards it. Then it heard another laugh by his neck and saw out of the corner of his eye the face of a stoat with pointed ears and three horns on its forehead.

Asterra squatted in front of the Kiriko, which was currently lying down on its stomach in front of her. "Couldn't resist a vulnerable target, could you?" she asked, tapping the Kiriko on the nose.

"You…you put yourself at risk and acted as bait?" the Kiriko asked.

"Yep," she replied. The nonchalance in her voice didn't belong in the voice of a person that had been in danger of being killed only moments before.

"Why?"

"In the wild, Kikiri's kind rely on stealth and surprising their prey while hunting. So I gave him the distraction he needed in order to snare you."

The Kiriko grinned. "Well that was a big risk you took there. I could've lksjdasdf." The Kiriko frowned as his tongue suddenly became clumsy.

Another laugh. "Finally starting to feel the poison set in?"

The Kiriko was. A numbness was spreading through its whole body from the point on its- neck that Kikiri had bitten; its muscles refused obey its brain's commands. It had not noticed the numbness of its limbs because it had mistakenly assumed that their inability to move was caused by the Dokujo constricting him, not the poison's paralyzing effects. The Kiriko's words became slurred as the paralysis situated itself in the beast's tongue. "You must really trust that Dokujo."

"Well of course," Asterra replied. "I couldn't pull something like that with a person I'd just met."

The Kiriko tried to say something, but his words were cut off as his tongue went completely numb and his body was completely paralyzed.

Kikiri slithered off the Kiriko and his body shrunk back to its normal size, his vertebral disks cracking back into place. He then shook himself, his red-brown fur rippling across his body. His face was lit up by a triumphant face as he walked over to Asterra.

"Nice work," Asterra praised, rubbing the Dokujo under the chin.

Kikiri purred, then asked, "So what do we do with this guy now?"

Before Asterra could answer she heard a familiar voice call out her name. "Asterra! There you are!"

A shadow descended from the canopy and landed in front of her lightly.

Asterra recognized the shadow immediately. "Gon! What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you because you were gone for so long," the dark-haired boy replied. He then looked behind her to see the paralyzed Kiriko. "Yay! And there's the husband too!"

"Husband?" Asterra frowned.

"Yeah! The Kiriko's husband!" Gon said. "Come back to the cabin and the other Kirikos will explain everything!"

Asterra, still confused but deciding to just go with the flow, pointed her thumb at the Kiriko. "With him?"

Gon nodded and added, "I can lead you the way back."

Asterra opened her mouth to reply, then her wariness kicked in and her eyes narrowed. The dark-haired boy's timing was convenient. Too convenient, actually. "Hey, Gon."

"Yeah?"

"Why did you let me join you?"

"Eh?" Gon cocked his head.

"Just humor me."

A frown crossed the boy's face, but he answered anyway. "You didn't seem like a bad person, and traveling with a bunch of people is more fun."

 _Same answer as before. Should be fine, then._ "Thanks," she replied with a nod. "So you'll lead me out of the forest?"

"Yep!"

"All right. I'll carry him then." With deft movements she picked up the Kiriko and slung it across her shoulders in a fireman's carry.

"Do you need help?"

"No, I got it," Asterra replied, shrugging her shoulders to adjust the position of the Kiriko. She had carried heavier loads before during training, so heaviness was not the problem; rather, it was the Kiriko's size made him awkward to carry. She could manage, though.

"Ok." Gon got ready to jump, but was stopped by a "Wait!" from Kikiri. The boy turned to the Dokujo.

"Can I ride with you?" he asked. "I want to see what it's like going through the trees really fast."

Gon cocked his head. "Doesn't Asterra do that?"

"Asterra's too heavy."

"Hey!" she snapped.

Gon laughed. "Ok, sure!" With that Kikiri scrambled up Gon's arms and snuggled around the boy's neck. Gon then leaped up into the trees.

Asterra shrugged again and set off at a jog with the Kiriko slung across her shoulders.

What was up with Kikiri, though? The Dokujo didn't take to many humans and thus always stuck to Asterra; his riding on anyone else's shoulders was akin to a miracle. Perhaps Gon was good with animals.

True to his word Gon did lead her out of the forest, although the five minutes of hard running it took combined with having to carry a deadweight left her puffing for breath slightly. The two applicants broke through the wall of trees and they ended up back at the cabin, which was now more populated than when they had first arrived. Leorio and Kurapika stood in front of the porch, as well as the husband that had been hurt and the wife who had been kidnapped by a Kiriko…that happened to be sitting by said husband and wife. _What the hell?_

"Papa!" the wife said and rushed over to the Kiriko on Asterra's back. "Papa, are you okay?"

"Papa?" Asterra looked towards Leorio, Kurapika and Gon. "Did I miss a memo or something?"

"It turns out this all the members of this family are Kiriko," Kurapika replied. "And they also happen to be the Navigators."

The husband—or the man Asterra had thought was the husband-followed up by saying, "I'm the son"—he pointed at the woman near Asterra—"she's my sister, and the two who are still in Kiriko form are our parents."

"Wait, what?!" Asterra exclaimed. "So that attacking and kidnapping was all an act?"

"Yes. That was their way of testing us," Kurapika replied.

Asterra blinked and gaped stupidly for a moment, her overloaded brain still trying to process the slew of information that had been shoved at her within a short period of time. When she finally came to grips with the current situation, she hurriedly put down the Kiriko on its back as gently as she could.

"I apologize for my actions!" Asterra bowed low towards the poisoned Kiriko. "I didn't realize…"

"What did you do to him?" the daughter asked.

Asterra lowered her gaze to avoid looking at anybody else that was there. "I…I poisoned him."

"WHAT?!" Leorio exclaimed.

"Well, technically Kikiri poisoned him."

"It was Asterra's idea!" Kikiri shot back from Gon's shoulder.

Asterra glared at Kikiri for a second then continued then explained how she and Kikiri had taken the Magical Beast down.

"So…is he going to die?" Gon asked Kikiri.

"No, no!" Kikiri shook his head vigorously. "I only bit him long enough to paralyze him, not give him a heart attack!"

"If that's the case, he should recover within the hour," Kurapika said. "Dokujo poison works quickly, but that also makes it quick to break down in the body as well."

"Then everything'll be ok!" Gon beamed. Everybody else breathed out in relief.

So everybody sat down and waited, with the healthy Kiriko telling the other Kiriko about how Gon had been able to tell the difference between her/him and her/his spouse. When Asterra asked Gon about how he could tell the difference between the two, he replied that the two Kiriko had different faces and that the wife had a higher pitched voice. Using the hints she tried to differentiate between the two but as far as she could tell, the Kiriko were identical. Leorio and Kurapika seemed to be of the same opinion.

"But man, poisoning the examiner!" Leorio chuckled, shaking his head.

"And exactly how was I supposed to know he was an examiner?" Asterra protested.

"Well, it's bound to make an impression," Kurapika added. "Although I don't know if it will be a good or bad one."

"Better hope they don't fail you!" Leorio grinned.

Kikiri growled at Leorio's comment. Asterra buried her face in her wrapped hands to hide the red color that was spreading across her face. There was no chance of her living down this screw-up any time soon.

"Man, I sure feel sorry for him, though," Gon said, looking back at the Kiriko. "He got hit by me and Kurapika and then poisoned by Asterra, all in one night. That couldn't have been fun."

Upon hearing Gon's comment, an urge to dig a hole deep enough to hide in washed over Asterra. Instead she settled for curling up into a ball even more. "I hope he doesn't fail me…" she muttered.

"Well, for all it's worth," Kurapika started, "If he fails people who hurt him, then Gon and I will probably fail too."

"What?! I don't want to fail!" Gon cried out.

"Which means I'd be the only one that passes," Leorio said smugly.

"Unlikely. But if that did happen, it would truly be a depressing turn of events," Kurapika stated.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Look, the Kiriko's getting up!" Gon said.

The applicants turned to see the Kiriko struggle to his feet, shaking his head and limbs to cast off the lingering numbness. The family distanced themselves from the applicants and conversed for a few minutes, then came back to the applicants, who stood up.

"Well, now that everything's calmed down, we'll formally introduce ourselves and tell you what's going on," one of the Kiriko started. "As you've all been told, we're a family of Navigators that support the Hunter Exam. Every year the exam site changes but one thing remains the same-they're all difficult to locate on one's own. So we Navigators help applicants by guiding them to the exam site."

"Oh, so that's how it works," Gon said.

"But we don't help everybody," the daughter pointed out.

The son followed up the daughter's comment. "We test applicants to see if they're qualified to take the exam, which we just did. So now we'll announce our decisions."

"Kurapika," the daughter started. "You used the vaguest of hints to determine that we weren't spouses." She bared her arm, revealing the intricate black tattoos on her arm. "The hint being these tattoos which, in this region, mark a woman as single for life." The daughter then rubbed her arm to reveal that the tattoos were not stained into her skin but rather painted on. "You demonstrated that you are very knowledgeable; therefore, you pass."

Kurapika sighed in relief.

"Way to go, Kurapika!" Gon said, raising his fist.

"Thanks." Kurapika bumped fists with Gon.

"Leorio," the son started. "You never realized my true identity in the end."

Leorio made an "oh crap" face.

"However, you dressed my injuries faster and more thoroughly than any doctor. And most importantly, you continued to reassure me that my 'wife' was safe."

Asterra looked at the son and then at Leorio in disbelief. The moneygrubber had done what?

Leorio fixed his necktie bashfully. "Shut up; that's embarrassing…" he muttered.

"Your kindness makes you worthy to take the Hunter Exam. Thus, you pass."

"R-Really?" Leorio slumped to the ground, relief clearly written across his face. "Thank goodness…"

"Nice!" Gon said, offering his fist once again. Leorio bumped his fist against it.

"And Gon," one of the Kiriko said. "Your superhuman physical ability and powers of observation make you plenty worthy to take the Hunter Exam. You pass."

A big smile lit up Gon's face and Gon, Leorio, and Kurapika bumped fists with each other.

Now only Asterra's fate remained undecided. She gulped.

"Asterra," the other Kiriko suddenly said. Asterra straightened and forced her fidgeting hands apart from each other, moving them so they rest by her sides. "You acted as bait to lure me out so that your Dokujo could have a chance to capture and poison me, even though you could have been seriously hurt as a result. Many would have called you foolish and reckless for doing so."

The girl bit her lip.

"But by doing so, you demonstrated great courage and the strength of the bond between you and your Dokujo, two things that we believe deem you worthy for taking the Hunter Exam."

Asterra's eyes widened. Did that mean…?

"Therefore, you pass."

Those three words drained all the tension that had been building up in her body over the course of an hour. A sigh escaped her lips and she felt her posture slump slightly. She had passed.

She had passed!

"Yaay, Asterra!" Kikiri chirped and Asterra hugged him tight, joy and relief apparent in her laugh.

"Asterra! Way to go!" Gon's voice said. Asterra looked down to see Gon offering his fist to her.

A big smile spread across her face and she bumped fists with Gon. "Thanks, Gon!"

Gon grinned back. In fact, all four applicants were now beaming at each other.

One of the Kiriko then said, "Now, let's guide you to the exam site!"

The son and the daughter nodded at each other and morphed back into their Kiriko forms. Then each Kiriko raised their arms and membranous wings sprouted from their limbs.

"Wait, we're flying?" Asterra asked as Kikiri curled around her neck.

A Kiriko nodded. "Each one of us will fly with one of you hanging on to our feet. Don't worry, it'll be a short trip."

Within a few minutes all of them were up in the air, nearer to the stars than they could ever get without riding an airship. The cool night air tickled their faces.

"Isn't it great that we all passed?" Gon yelled.

"It's too early to celebrate," Kurapika replied. "We've merely earned the right to take the real exam."

"What's wrong with celebrating a little?" Leorio asked. "We've still made progress!"

"And I think that everybody passing is a good reason for celebration," Asterra added, then choked a little as she felt Kikiri curl around her neck tighter. The Dokujo was used to the ground being much closer to his stomach than it was now and it was showing in his actions.

Kurapika shook his head. "Honestly, you people really should think."

"Hey! Why do you have to be a smart-ass like that!" Leorio shot back, flailing wildly and causing the Kiriko that was carrying him to start descending in altitude.

"Stop moving around!" the Kiriko carrying Leorio yelled. "If you fall it's your fault!"

Gon and Asterra laughed into the night sky.

Yes, the four of them had only earned the right to take the exam. Yes, they hadn't even reached the starting line of the race called the Hunter Exam yet. But at that moment, for at least for three of the four applicants, those thoughts didn't matter because they had been pushed back by the sense of accomplishment that had spread throughout their minds.

* * *

**Thanks for reading to the end :)**

**-Rhyss**


	6. So It Begins

No place overwhelmed one's five physical senses like a crowded marketplace.

The late morning sun shined down on the market, adding to the heat the crowding of bodies brought. Violent hues, warm, luxurious shades and cool tones of stalls battled each other and stall-keepers hollered claims that were greatly exaggerated (if not false) to attract customers. Pungent odors and sweet aromas wafted through the air, tugging at noses. And shoppers chomped into roasted delicacies (such as panda-frogs-on-a-stick), licked the sugar off their hands after eating candied fruit, and puckered their mouths as the sour taste of lemons slammed into their taste buds.

The Navigator bobbed and weaved through the morning crowd with practiced ease, while Leorio, Kurapika, Gon and Asterra followed him doggedly.

They passed a booth where old men were smoking a hookah. Asterra's nose crinkled as she smelled a suspiciously sweet scent.

"Zaban City sure looks like a shady place," Leorio noted.

An overweight lady waved her hands crazily over a crystal ball while shouting something towards the heavens. "Prosperous cities like this tend to attract all sorts of shady types," Kurapika replied.

"True that," Leorio nodded, then looked over to Asterra and frowned. The girl had her nose buried in a map-pamphlet of Zaban City. "Asterra, we're being guided right to the exam site by a Navigator. Why are you looking at a map?"

Asterra looked up briefly to avoid a crowd of shoppers and looked down at the pamphlet in her hands again. "Force of habit."

"Habit?"

"My parents never stayed in one place for very long, so I had to learn my way around quickly." She flipped the page and skimmed through the tourist hotspots section. "We used to play this scavenger hunt game every time we came to a new place: I had the first three days to memorize a map of the city, then they'd take my map away and I'd have to go look for clues that would lead me to the big prize. Now every time I come to a new city, I have to memorize its map."

"And you used to play this game alone?"

Asterra shook her head. "No, one of my parents always went with me. Never gave me hints, though."

The applicants continued making their way through the marketplace-all except for Gon.

"Hey Gon, hurry up!" Leorio yelled. "We're going!"

The boy turned and caught up with the older people, only to lag behind again a few minutes later.

Asterra found herself falling farther and farther behind the Navigator, Kurapika and Leorio as she divided her attention between following the three, memorizing a map of Zaban City, and keeping an eye on Gon. She had been to dozens of these markets before, so she knew her way around them and wasn't overloaded by the atmosphere. But Gon, on the other hand…well, this was something new for him. He was a young boy from a Whale Island, a place with a very small population; he had probably never seen half of these colors and smelled a quarter of these scents before. Every stall was a new experience, a new adventure that drew the boy like honey drew bees.

It took fifteen minutes longer than it should have, but eventually the Navigator and the group of applicants broke out of the market. The landscape turned from cluttered, cramped, and rustic to neat, open and modern. Instead of stalls lining both sides of a narrow pathway, now gleaming skyscrapers and neatly kept city gardens lined the borders of spacious city squares. The Navigator walked across the first city square and stopped when he reached the opposite side. He looked down at the piece of paper in his hand and pointed ahead. "I believe that is the building."

The applicants looked up two see a grand skyscraper towering over them. The foundation was a warm, brick-like color and columns of the same color stood on either side of the spinning door entrance. Halfway up the skyscraper the brick color transitioned into a grey that separated polished windows from each other.

The girl whistled. Now this was a building worthy of hosting the exam. It was certainly big enough to do so.

"It's so tall!" Gon's eyes were full of wonder. "And really nice too."

"So this is the exam site," Leorio said.

"With applicants from across the world inside…" Kurapika finished.

"Was this how Dad felt like when he arrived to take his first Hunter Exam ever?" Gon murmured.

The voice of the Navigator interrupted their moment of admiration. "Hey guys," he called, an amused smile on his face. "Over here." Four heads turned to see that the Kiriko was pointing at the restaurant next to the building. It was a small restaurant made of wood and plaster that, in terms of grandeur, paled in comparison to the skyscraper. A simplified painting of an entrée decorated the corner of its shop sign, which was bordered by ivy that also crawled up the building's length.

"Is this a joke?" Leorio asked as the four walked over. "This looks like a normal restaurant. There's no way that Hunter applicants from around the world are meant to gather here."

"That's the point," the Navigator replied. "No one would ever expect the Hunter Exam, with its millions of applicants, to have its site located here, right?"

"You can say that again," Asterra replied. The restaurant looked barely big enough to fit a hundred people, much less millions.

The Navigator slid the door open and the group entered. Inside people sat at the counter and at tables, eating an early lunch. The place, with its oriental décor, looked a little worn down-the paint was a little faded and the furniture was a little banged up as well-but the place had a distinctly homey atmosphere. The smell that wafted from behind the counter certainly smelled good enough to be considered so. A chef worked behind the counter, eyes focused on whatever he was frying up at the moment. "Welcome!"

"Is the back room open?" the Navigator asked.

The chef looked up at the newcomers. "What would you like?"

"The steak combo that opens your eyes to the light, for four."

Asterra raised an eyebrow. That must have been some really good steak _._ Kikiri licked his lips next to her ear.

The chef's tone became more serious. "For four, huh…How would you like it done?"

"Simmered over a low flame, until cooked," the Navigator replied.

A smile softened the chef's face. "Got it. Show yourselves to the back room and it'll be out in a sec."

The Navigator nodded and walked to the back of the restaurant, applicants in tow. He then turned into a short hall and opened a door, revealing a square room. The room continued the oriental theme of the restaurant, with its scarlet and gold wall designs. A single wooden, circular table with a lazy Susan sat in the middle of the room.

"Wait here," the Navigator said.

"Wait?" Leorio asked. "Where are the other applicants?"

"I can't wait for the steak combo," Gon sang.

The boy's bubble was burst by a single sentence from Kurapika. "Gon, that was just the password to get us inside."

That definitely made the specific wording of the Navigator's replies make more sense.

Gon's face fell a little. "We don't get to eat?"

Kikiri slumped onto Asterra's shoulder with a dejected sigh.

"One in every ten thousand."

The four of them turned towards the Navigator who explained, "That's the probability of applicants making it this far. You've done extremely well for first-timers."

"Thanks," Gon smiled, holding his hand out. The Navigator took it with a smile and both shook hands.

"I would be happy to serve as your Navigator next year, as well." He then wished them good luck and exited, closing the door behind him.

There was the humming sound of machinery coming to life and the room started to sink.

"Well, that explains a lot," Asterra mused, noticing that at the back of the room there was a panel that showed "B" and a number that kept increasing. "This room's an elevator."

Each applicant sat down in a chair that had been set around the table.

"That bastard…" Leorio muttered. "He expects us to fail this year."

"Once every three years."

_What is it with people and statistics today?_ Asterra thought, turning to Kurapika. "And that is…?"

"The frequency at which a rookie passes the Hunter Exam."

"It's that low?" Gon asked.

"Some of them cannot endure the mental and physical strains of the exam. Apparently it's also not uncommon for veterans to break the rookies, who consequently never retake the test."

Asterra tucked that fact into the back of her mind. Another thing to look out for while taking the exam.

"I guess these applicants want to become Hunters that bad, huh," Gon mused.

Leorio shot up from his seat. "Well of course they do, Gon! Hunters make the most money in this world!"

Gon blinked. Asterra facepalmed.

"No!" Kurapika shot up as well. "Being a Hunter is the noblest job in this world!"

"Glory hog!" Leorio spat.

"Money grubber!" Kurapika shot back.

Well this was escalating quickly.

"Listen up, you two!" Leorio slammed his hands into the lazy Susan in front of Gon to capture his and Asterra's attention. "Every year, over fifty Hunters make the list of the hundred richest people in the world!"

Suddenly Leorio wavered and lost his balance as Kurapika spun the lazy Susan. He blonde solemnly explained, "Hunters are associated with hunting wild game and treasure, but the ones that do that are all second-rate. True Hunters work to protect people and the natural order."

Then Leorio was in Gon's face again. "Listen, once you're a Hunter, most countries will give you a free pass! And no charge for using public facilities! Aren't those great benefits?!"

Kurapika spun the lazy Susan again. "Hunters have many arduous and important responsibilities, such as preserving cultural artifacts and endangered species, as well as capturing wanted criminals and unscrupulous Hunters."

Leorio slammed his hands down. "Fame and money! That's why people want to become Hunters!"

"Profound knowledge, a healthy mind and body, and unyielding conviction…Those are the qualities on which Hunter's pride themselves!"

The two glared at each other for a few moments, then turned toward Gon and Asterra and yelled simultaneously: "Gon! Asterra! What do you guys think?! Which kind of Hunter do you want to be?!"

"Well…" Gon wavered, eyes looking from Kurapika to Leorio.

"None of the above," Asterra answered. The two arguing parties zeroed in on her.

"You're not even here to become a Hunter!" Leorio said, pointing a finger at her. "You're just here to get to the end of the third phase then quit and go home!"

Asterra's eyes flashed and she shot up from her seat with a snarl. "I never said that, moneygrubber!"

"Then what kind of Hunter are you trying to become?" Kurapika asked, arms crossed.

_Not a goody-two-shoes one, blondie_. Her actions after she becoming a Hunter were going to be self-serving; she had no intentions of doing public service, preserving culture, maintaining the balance of the natural world, etc, etc. And she wasn't in it to become rich and famous either. No, she desired one thing as a Hunter, and one thing only. "One that can obtain any and all kinds of information."

Leorio looked at her oddly. "Information?"

"Hunters have access to more pools of information than anyone else, don't they? That's what I'm after."

Kurapika shrugged. "Better than money, I suppose."

"Nerd," Leorio muttered.

The two arguing applicants then turned their attention to Gon. "Gon?!"

A dinging sound cut off any answer Gon was about to give. The screen on the upper part of the wall displayed "B100."

Kurapika and Leorio straightened. "We'll continue this conversation later."

Gon breathed out in relief and stood up to make a quick exit.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a scene very different from the restaurant upstairs.

In front of them was a very wide, dark tunnel, dimly lit by a row of red lights along the sides. It looked industrial, with a structure made mostly of concrete and a myriad of pipes and cables that ran across the walls. A horde of people-much larger than the number of applicants that had gathered at Essel-stood clumped together in groups, waiting. At the sound of the elevator doors opening the applicant's eyes zeroed in on them simultaneously.

Well that was creepy.

Leorio looked around, the grip on his briefcase tightening. "I don't like this."

Asterra agreed. The tension-laced air here was worse than the air at Essel; if the air there had weighed 5 pounds, the air here weighed 50 pounds. Good thing she had found a group back at Dolle, because there would have been no chance of her finding herself one now.

"They're clearly different from the Hunter applicants we saw at the port and in the city," Kurapika observed. "Each is a master, in their own way."

Well if that was the case, Asterra really didn't feel like messing with the lady who held a sniper rifle in her hands.

"Excuse me," Gon asked, then stopped. Nobody answered him; they either glared at him or looked away. "Everyone sure is tense."

"Hello, please take a number."

Asterra looked down to see a…what was that, exactly? It was humanoid in shape but only as tall as Gon, with a shiny green head that looked like a polished pea with eyes. Leorio took a circular badge that had the number "403" written on it from the green-pea-human. The rest of the group received a badge too: Kurapika number 404, Gon number 405, and Asterra number 406.

"Be sure to wear this on your chest at all times. And be careful not to misplace it," the green-pea-human said and walked off to find more newcomers.

Each member of the group placed the badge on their chest.

"Haven't seen you guys around before," a voice called to them. The source of the voice was a short, rotund man with a square nose sitting on one of the pipes that ran across the wall. He wore a blue tunic over a grey shirt and pants and a messenger bag was slung across his chest.

"You can tell we're new?" Gon asked.

"More or less," he replied, jumping down from his sitting spot and walking towards them. "This is my 35th attempt, after all."

"35?!" the group exclaimed. Who in their right mind was willing to risk their lives that many times?

"You could say I'm an exam veteran," Tonpa smiled.

"That isn't something to brag about, is it?" She asked Kurapika and Leorio quietly. Both shook their heads.

"If you have any questions, feel free to ask me."

"Thanks," Gon said.

"My name's Tonpa." The man held out his hand.

Gon took it. "I'm Gon. And this is Kurapika, Asterra, and Leorio." The three nodded. Gon then asked, "Are there any other people who have taken the exam a bunch of times like you?"

Tonpa looked at the crowd in front of them. "Well, I probably have the most experience here, but there are a few others. For instance, him…" Tonpa pointed to a heavy set man with brown-blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, currently eating something out of a paper bag. "Number 255: Todo, the wrestler. He's unmatched in strength and smarter than he looks.

"Then there's number 103…" A middle-aged man with a Fu Manchu sat by himself. He was covered in cloth from head to toe, with a turban-like headpiece covering his head and layers of light-colored, long-sleeved clothes and a purple scarf covering his body. "Bourbon, the snake charmer. He tends to hold grudges, so you don't want to end up on his bad side." A snake slithered up from behind the man.

"And then…number 101: Bodoro, the martial arts master." Tonpa pointed at a man in his late 50s dressed in indigo Chinese-style clothing. He had grey hair pulled back into a ponytail and he had a mustache too. "He's getting a little old, but there still isn't a better martial artist around.

"Then you have the three brothers Amori, Imori, and Umori." He pointed at a group of three in their late teens, early twenties. All of them had a painted mark under each eye that looked similar to a papercut. "They perform consistently well due to their excellent teamwork.

"And then there's number 384, Gerreta, the huntsman." A dark-skinned man with sunglasses dressed in a red tunic with a Renaissance-style collar was cleaning out the bowl-like end of a staff. "He specializes in killing all kinds of creatures by just using a blow dart and club.

"There's a couple more, but those are the ones that have taken the test most times." Tonpa opened his mouth to say more, but his words were drowned out by a scream.

All the applicants' heads snapped towards the source of the sound, which turned out to be a man in gladiator-style armor. The man was on his knees, staring at his raised arms-

-which were turning into little bits of pink confetti that floated to the floor.

"Well, well, would you look at that?" a pale man in his twenties with gelled back wavy red hair smiled. "His arms turned into confetti." He spread his arms. "No smoke or mirrors, ladies and gentleman. It's all real."

_What the-_ Asterra thought, her mouth going a little dry as the man that was doubled over continue to scream.

"You should really remember to apologize to people when you bump into them," the pale man advised as the shower of pink stopped. Apparently whatever…trick that man had used had run out of arm flesh to transform into confetti.

Twenty, thirty seconds passed but still the man's arms didn't reappear. The limbs were gone for good, and they had left their groveling owner behind.

Whispers ran through the crowd at the little "show" that had taken place.

"Great, that psychopath's back again." Tonpa muttered.

"He's been here before?" Kurapika asked.

"Number 44: Hisoka the Magician," Tonpa answered, bushy eyebrows furrowed. "Last year it was said that he would definitely pass, but he failed after half-killing an examiner."

"A-And he can still take the exam this year?!" Leorio sputtered.

"Of course. Examiners change every year, and the tests change with them. Heck, even the Devil could pass if the examiner said so. That's just how this exam works. I would definitely stay away from that guy, though."

Asterra looked back to Hisoka.

The man didn't look like a psychopath, but he certainly did look eccentric. He was dressed like a jester or magician of some sort, with a white shirt bordered by pink bands, a yellow cloth around his waist, white pants and black, curled-toe shoes. His shirt was decorated with red shapes-heart, diamond, spade, and club-with the heart and diamond decorating the front and the spade and club decorating the back. A green teardrop decorated his left cheek and red star decorated the other.

"Oh, hey! I know!" Tonpa started digging around in his bag and took out some cans of orange juice. "As a token of friendship…would you like one?"

"Really? Thanks!" Leorio took a can from Tonpa. "I was just getting thirsty!"

Everyone else took one, saying their thanks in return.

Asterra looked at the can of juice, then back at Tonpa. There was too much of a gap between the man's overly warm actions and the other applicants' frosty behavior; it put her on edge.

"I'm sorry Tonpa, I can't have this," Asterra said, holding out the can of juice to Tonpa. "I'm, uh… allergic to oranges." As soon as the words left her mouth she kicked herself. _Allergic to oranges? What kind of lame excuse is that?_

"You are?" Gon asked. Kurapika raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, sorry to hear that," Tonpa said, taking back the can of juice. He then reached back into his messenger bag and took out a red-colored can. "I've got some apple juice too. Do you want some?"

Asterra failed to make up another lie on the spot, so she had no choice but to accept the can. She faked a smile. "Thanks, Tonpa."

Tonpa raised his can in a toast. "Best of luck to all of us!"

They all raised their cans then opened their cans of juice. Asterra looked to Gon, who took a sip-

-and spat the juice back out.

"Tonpa-san, I think this juice is expired," Gon gagged. "It tastes funny."

Orange juice spewed out of Leorio's mouth. "Seriously?" he exclaimed, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "That was close!"

"H-Huh? That's strange…" Tonpa said, beads of perspiration trailing his face.

Kurapika and Asterra poured the contents of their drinks onto the floor.

"I'm so sorry!" Tonpa apologized, kneeling and placing his hands together in front of his face. "I didn't realize that some of the juice had gone bad!"

"Don't worry about it," Gon said. "Is your stomach okay?"

Tonpa looked up and stuttered, "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. How did you know the juice had expired?"

Gon grinned. "I've tried a lot of mountain herbs and grasses, so I can usually tell when something's bad for me."

"R-really? That's amazing…" Tonpa replied as he stood up. "Well, sorry about that. I'll see you around." With that, he left them rather hurriedly.

"What a handful of a guy," Leorio muttered.

Asterra wordlessly turned the can over after Tonpa had turned his back on them. And after she read the numbers on the bottom, her fingers curled inwards and crushed the metal cylinder.

The juice wasn't expired; in fact, it still had three months until it did. Which meant Gon had tasted something else that was bad for people in the juice.

"Did you realize it too?" Kurapika asked her quietly.

So Kurapika had also come to the conclusion that the juice had been spiked. That was reassuring; as much as she liked having Gon's superhuman senses and physical abilities around, he seemed too naïve for her to be able to discuss matters such as "who to be suspicious of" with him.

Asterra nodded in response, then beckoned at Tonpa with her chin. "Think he's one of those rookie-crushers you were talking about?"

"It's likely," Kurpika said.

"Didn't think we'd meet one so soon," Asterra mused. She dropped the crushed can and stuffed her hands in her hoodie pockets, her eyes cold as they watched the man melt into the crowd.

=o=o=o=

About twenty minutes after the incident a bell rang obnoxiously from the front of the tunnel. In the next moment it stopped and was followed by a loud groaning sound. "Kikiri, what's that?" Asterra asked.

Kikiri clamber up her neck and onto her head. "A door's opening!" he replied. As the sound ended, he added, "There's a guy in a suit standing in front of everybody."

"I apologize for the long wait," a voice rang out. "As of now, the entry period for Hunter Exam applicants has ended. We will now begin the Hunter Exam!"

The crowd buzzed.

Asterra tensed as Kikiri curled around her neck again. _Finally._ Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

"A final caution," the same voice said. "If you are short on luck or ability, you could very well end up seriously injured or even dead over the course of this exam. Those who accept the risks, please follow me. Otherwise, please exit via the elevator behind you.

Nobody moved.

"Very well. All 405 applicants will participate in Phase One." There was a sound of a shoe slamming on the floor and the crowd started walking forward.

"Tch, nobody left," Leorio muttered. "I was hoping a few would withdraw."

A few seconds later the crowd lurched forward and quickened its pace. The group of four picked up the pace too.

"What the-" Leorio started.

"The examiner in the lead must have picked up the pace," Kurapika said.

"I forgot to introduce myself," the same voice from before-the examiner's-said. "My name is Satotz, and I will be your Phase One examiner. I shall lead you to the second phase of the exam."

"Second phase?" a voice yelled. "What about the first one?"

"It has already begun."

"Already started?" "This is part of the test?" the applicants murmured.

"You must follow me to Phase Two. That is Phase One of this exam."

Follow him? At this pace? Piece of cake. Asterra could go for hours on end at this pace.

"Just follow you?" a voice asked.

"Yes. I cannot tell you where or when you must arrive. You only need to follow me."

Asterra's lips hardened into a thin line upon hearing that particular phrase.

"So that's how this is," Kurapika murmured.

"What a weird test," Gon said.

"Endurance test first, huh? Bring it on," Leorio grinned. "I'll follow you to the ends of the world!"

_Hope you don't end up eating those words, Leorio_ , Asterra thought. _Because this isn't just a test of how far you can run without collapsing._

She knew so because one of their training instructors had claimed that this type of run killed two birds with one stone. According to him, this type of run tested how far one could run and how long one's mind could last before doubt crept in and discipline broke.

_I wonder how many people will be left by the time we finish?_ Asterra thought as the sound of running feet filled her ears.

* * *

**That's all for now, folks.**

**Thanks for reading :)**

**-Rhyss**


	7. A Marathon in the Dark

**Enjoy the chapter :)**

Very few (if any) humans could run themselves to death.

Ever since the one-hour mark had passed, that fact was became more and more apparent with each passing minute. Applicants that lacked the necessary endurance fell behind, slowed, and finally collapsed, their mouths opening and closing furiously and their hearts stammering in their chests.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Asterra's feet hammered into the concrete floor, along with some-even-number-less-than-810 other feet. The sound reverberated through the cavernous tunnel with the same intensity as the march of an army on the move.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Even after two hours of running, her breaths still flowed in and out of her with relative ease; her legs weren't burning yet either. At this pace she could keep going for another three, four hours tops, assuming that the firm, flat ground and cool air would remain constant conditions. She made a mental note to thank the instructors back home for the years of hell that they had put her through.

Asterra glanced to her right. Kurapika was still running next to her and he didn't seem too out of breath either. Leorio, on the other hand, was gone. He had started falling behind about half an hour ago and now she had no idea where the man was. Perhaps he had given up and collapsed somewhere.

=o=o=o=

Leorio had not collapsed yet. Instead he was running along, many yards behind Asterra and Kurapika, and gasping for air. His whole body burned, overheating from the stuffy business suit he wore. It was becoming harder and harder and harder to coax his heavy legs onwards. That briefcase that always seemed so light was starting to feel like a deadweight too.

He glanced up at the main pack far in front of him, wondering if they had all sold their soul to the Devil in exchange for superhuman endurance. Then again, Kurapika was too rigid in his morals to do so and Asterra had mentioned that she had gone through military training. But that didn't account for the rest of the applicants.

The sound of wheels scratching against the concrete came closer and a moment later a small figure with spiky silver hair passed by him. He was clad in a white short-sleeved v-neck, a dark blue long-sleeved turtle neck and grey baggy shorts that ended just past the knees.

"Hey, kid!"

The figure turned towards Leorio, revealing a pale face with blue eyes. He looked to be about Gon's age.

"Show the Hunter Exam some respect!" Leorio snarled.

The boy cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" Leorio pointed angrily at the yellow skateboard with a red arrow design that the pale boy was riding. "You're using a skateboard- that's cheating!"

"Why?"

"'Cause this is an endurance test, that's why!"

"No it isn't," Gon's voice interjected.

Leorio and the boy turned back to Gon, who continued, "The examiner only told us to follow him."

"Whose side are you on?!" Leorio screeched.

The silver-haired boy decelerated and skateboarded towards Gon. "Hey, how old are you?"

"Twelve," Gon replied.

The silver-haired boy nodded slightly at Gon's words and didn't say anything for a moment, as if contemplating something. Then with a quick flick of his foot the skateboard shot up into the air. The object went spinning up and the boy caught it deftly as he landed smoothly on his own sneakered feet. "I think I'll run too."

"Wow!" Gon beamed, accelerating a little to catch up with the boy. "That was cool!"

"I'm Killua," the boy with silver hair said.

"I'm Gon." Gon grinned.

All the while Leorio gritted his teeth, cursing the two twelve-year-olds for making a fool out of him.

=o=o=o=

Another two hours later, Leorio's pace had decreased to that of a snail. His feet dragged. His vision blurred. And he couldn't get enough air no matter how hard he tried.

Kurapika's statistic from earlier echoed in his mind.

_Only one rookie passes the Hunter Exam every three years._

If only one rookie passed every three years, what was the chance of him, an average Joe, passing this year?

Murky doubt seeped into his mind through the hole that the question before had made.

Really, what were the chances of him passing? Those exam regulars with fearsome professions and skillsets that Tonpa had pointed out-wrestlers, hunters, martial artists-hadn't even passed yet.

Perspiration made his grip slip and his briefcase clattered to the floor.

What was he doing here?

He slowed even more.

He didn't belong here, among all these specialists.

Leorio's feet finally stopped and the young man doubled over, hands on knees. He gasped like a goldfish out of water.

He couldn't do this; there was no way a guy like him could pass this fucked up exam. It was an impossible goal, a dream of a dream.

A set of footsteps slowed to a stop and Leorio looked up.

It was Gon. The boy had come to a complete stop and was looking back at him.

"Hey, forget about him," Killua called to Gon. "Let's get going."

Gon didn't answer or turn his head to Killua. Instead, he looked back at Leorio impassively with his big brown eyes. Staring. Waiting.

Leorio continued to wheeze as he looked up at Gon. Perspiration dripped from every inch of his skin, soaking his shirt and suit. What was Gon doing? The pack was getting farther and farther ahead. It would leave him behind if he didn't start running again soon. Leorio opened his mouth to say something but he didn't have enough air to do so.

Gon continued to stare, unmoving.

And Killua looked upon the scene with a confused expression.

Leorio screwed his eyes shut. So the kid wasn't going to move until he did. He gripped his knees. What a joke this was. The roles were reversed: he, the older one, was holding Gon, the kid, back. And the sticky, slimy doubt in his head was holding him back.

Leorio took one final big breath to steady himself.

"SCREW IT!" he bellowed at the specialized applicants that were far ahead of him and at the doubt that weighed him down. So what if he was some average Joe? So what?! It didn't mean he couldn't at least try to pass this damn thing.

Leorio snapped up and lunged forward, arms pumping and strides accelerating. "I don't care!" He hollered again. "I'm gonna become a Hunter!"

A gust of wind tore through Killua and Gon's hair as Leorio hurtled pass them screaming, "Damn it all!"

The dark-haired boy smiled at the sight and turned to the briefcase Leorio had left behind. He took out his fishing rod from his backpack and a practiced flick later, the hook was sailing through the air towards the briefcase. The hook caught on the handle and Gon snapped his wrist back. The briefcase came flying towards him and the boy caught it deftly.

Killua's eyes widened and his face cracked into a wide grin. "Awesome!" The two set off again and Killua continued, "Let me try that later."

"If you promise to let me try your skateboard," Gon grinned back.

=o=o=o=

Another two hours later, the landscape changed. The flat ground they had been running on morphed into undulating hills with staircases. The fact that there were stairs made sense, since the tunnel was about a hundred stories underground and they had to make their way back up to sea level somehow.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" a guy rasped in front of her. "The examiner's going faster?!"

"Yeah! The guy's fucking prancing up the stairs!" another applicant rasped back.

Shit.

Asterra regarded herself as she accelerated a little. Breathing still steady, legs starting to smolder slightly, body starting to get hot. With the steps and the faster pace, she could last another hour, maybe an hour and a half, until it would take a little more pushing from the mental fortitude department to keep her body moving.

=o=o=o=

A few minutes later she heard somebody huffing and puffing loudly behind her.

"I don't believe it," Kikiri said. "He's back."

The huffing and puffing broke even with her and she saw Leorio out of the corner of her eye.

"You okay, Leorio?" Kurapika asked.

"Yeah I am!" he yelled. "I realized that I can keep going if I don't worry about how stupid I look!"

"Stupid" was one way to put it. The man had taken his shirt and suit jacket off and tied them around his waist. His necktie was still tied loosely around his neck and it fluttered behind him.

"Well, see ya later!" With that Leorio started charging up the stairs, arms swinging crazily.

"Hey, you might wanna slow down before you lose your breath again!" Asterra yelled.

Then she heard a rustle of cloth and turned to see Kurapika taking off his tabard. Another moment later the article of clothing was in his bag. Now the teen was running in just his long-sleeved white shirt and long pants. "See you later," he said and started to accelerate as well. Soon she was looking into Kurapika's white back.

"Tsk," she muttered. She wiped perspiration from her forehead with a wrapped right hand and realized how hot she was. That was bound to invite bad consequences. She unzipped her hoodie, revealing a dark-colored tank top.

Cool tunnel air rushed over exposed skin, chilling her and refreshing her at the same time. She picked up the pace and caught up to Leorio and Kurapika in no time.

"Look who decided to join the party!" Leorio said.

"Hey to you too," she replied curtly, keeping her gaze forward. She jogged around a collapsed applicant.

"Leorio, can I ask you something?" Kurapika asked.

"What, this isn't hard enough for you?" Leorio glanced at Kurapika with a smile on his face. "Talking'll just waste energy."

Apparently getting an answer was more important than wasting energy to Kurapika, since he asked, "Are you really trying to become a Hunter for the money?"

Leorio's smile disappeared and he looked down.

"That's what I thought. We've only been together for a few days, but I know you're better than that. Sure, you have a nasty attitude and you aren't the sharpest tool in the shed…"

"You can say that again," Kikiri said from Asterra's shoulder.

"Shut up, you overgrown weasel!" Leorio growled.

"Hey, I'm a Dokujo, not some common weasel!"

"But you're not a shallow person," Kurapika interjected forcefully before Leorio could snap anything back at Kikiri. "I've seen many who live for money; you're nothing like them."

"Tch, you and your logic," Leorio hissed, but didn't answer Kurapika's initial question.

Kurapika looked down as if contemplating something, then said, "Scarlet eyes."

Leorio looked to Kurapika.

"That's the reason for my clan's destruction."

Asterra choked and looked to Kurapika with wide eyes. _Destruction?_

"We Kurta are known for our unique scarlet eyes. When our emotions become intense, our eyes turn scarlet, as if on fire."

So what Asterra had seen at the harbor-Kurapika's eyes flashing scarlet-had not been a trick of the light.

"The scarlet of our eyes is considered to be one of the most seven most beautiful colors in the world. As a result, they command high prices on the black market."

She didn't like the sound of this already.

"That's why the Phantom Troupe attacked you?" Leorio asked.

Kurapika nodded, grey eyes hard. "They killed all of my kin and took every single eye from their corpses."

Despite herself, an image of what Kurapika was describing started to form in her mind. She visualized a village, burned, gutted. The soil was drenched with blood, the bodies of the Kurta were tossed every which way in the streets like dolls that had been scattered by a child in one of his tantrums.

"I can still hear their darkened eyes crying out in anguish..."

The village was replaced by a bruised face etched in an eternal scream. Blood ran down like tears from two dark holes in the face that should have been filled with eyes.

Kurapika's goal of hunting down one of the most dangerous criminal groups in history made a lot more sense now. If the same thing had happened to her-if somebody had massacred her clan-she would have thought of doing the same thing as Kurapika. Without a doubt.

"That's why I swore to capture the Phantom Troupe." Kurapika's statement dragged her out of her reverie. "And reclaim every single eye they took from my kin!"

"And that's why you want to become a Hunter," Asterra said.

"Yes. If I become a Hunter with rich clients, I'll gain access to black market information."

Kurapika digging around in the black market for scarlet eyes, surrounded by scum and bastards on all four sides, without blowing up at the immoral nature of that world? That was an image that was hard to visualize, even for her.

"But doesn't that mean throwing away your pride and becoming the kind of Hunter you despise the most?" Leorio asked.

"The blow to my pride is nothing compared to the suffering my clan endured," Kurapika replied with a cold determination. The tone in his voice blew away all skepticism Asterra had towards Kurapika's willingness to dive headfirst into the underworld and submerge himself in its depths.

There was a moment of silence before Leorio started speaking. "Sorry, but I don't have some noble cause like you. I'm just after money."

"Don't lie!" Kurapika said.

"I'm not lying!" Leorio shot back.

"You really believe you can buy everything with money?"

"You bet! For the right price, you can buy dreams, hearts, and even people's lives!"

"How?" Asterra asked.

Kurapika's eyes flashed at the reply's last words. "Take that back, Leorio! If you're insulting the Kurta, I won't forgive you!"

"Why? It's the truth." Leorio looked back at Kurapika, an anguished look on his face. "If I'd had money, my friend wouldn't have died!"

He then turned his head back around hurriedly with the expression of one who realized that he had said too much.

Kikiri poked his head out of Asterra's backpack. "Disease?" Asterra asked.

"It was a treatable one…" Leorio replied. "The problem was that the surgery to cure it cost a fortune. I was naïve! I thought I could become a doctor. I could cure kids who had the same disease as my friend and be able to tell their parents they didn't need to pay me a single jenny for the surgery! That was my dream…"

Leorio's voice took on a bitter tone and he shook his head. "What a joke of a dream. Turns out that to become that kind of doctor, I needed a ridiculous amount of money that I couldn't possibly scrounge up! Don't you get it?" Leorio's voice crescendoed to a frustrated roar and Asterra thought she saw his eyes water. "Everything comes back to one thing: money! No matter what you think of it, no matter what you want to do, you can't change the fact that the world runs on the stuff! You can't do anything if you don't have money! That's why I want to become a Hunter and get insanely rich-because I want to be able to do something!"

A small smile appeared on Kurapika's face. Asterra felt a sort of relief as well, although it didn't quite manifest itself into a smile.

The brief silence and heavy atmosphere was cut through by Gon's voice. "See you at the goal, you guys!"

Asterra turned to see Gon carrying Leorio's suitcase on his fishing pole and a silver-haired boy with a skateboard running next to them.

"Catch you later, old timer!" the silver-haired boy said.

"I'm not that old!" Leorio snapped. "I'm still a teenager!"

A stunned silence filled the air, then was broken by Asterra, Gon, and Killua exclaiming "What?!"

 _No way,_ Asterra thought. Leorio couldn't possibly be a teenager. The way he dressed-the business suit, the small teashades-made him look about twice his age. "Leorio, you really need to get some new clothes if that's the case," Asterra said. "That suit makes you look like you're thirty-five."

"Why you-" Leorio growled with an expression that made it look like he could strangle her.

Gon and Killua laughed while Kurapika chuckled and shook his head.

=o=o=o=

A few minutes later Gon and Killua were running by themselves, as they had sped up and left the older applicants behind. Now they were zigzagging around staggering applicants, collapsing applicants, and near-unconscious applicants that were sprawled on the staircase.

"I'm surprised you can keep up with me," Killua observed.

"Really?" Gon laughed as another applicant made a gurgling sound and fell to his knees.

"Or maybe it's just that everyone else is too slow." Killua narrowed his eyes in boredom. "Man, the Hunter Exam is going to be a breeze. That's no fun." His head slumped forward.

"Hey, why do you want to become a Hunter?"

"Me?" Killua raised his head. "I'm not really interested in becoming a Hunter. I just heard the exam was supposed to be really hard, so I thought it'd be fun, but…this is disappointing."

Gon looked at Killua with slightly widened eyes.

"What about you?" Killua asked back.

"Well, my dad's a Hunter. So I want to become a Hunter, like my dad."

Killua cocked his head as the two moved to the right to avoid a collapsed applicant. "What kind of Hunter is he?"

"I don't know."

Killua laughed. "That's weird."

"Really?" Gon asked.

"You want to be like your dad but you don't know anything about him. I'd say that's pretty weird."

Gon looked forward again. "I was raised by Mito-san, so I've only seen dad in pictures."

"Who's Mito-san?"

"My aunt."

"Ok…" Killua trailed off as he raised an eyebrow.

"When he was twelve, my dad took the Hunter Exam and passed. Then he left the island. I want to become a Hunter to find out what about the job made Dad chose being a Hunter over being with me."

Killua looked at him with a mildly confused expression, then looked up as a bright light caught his eye.

"The exit!" applicants cheered as they neared a circular ball of bright light. "We can finally get out of this dark tunnel!"

The two boys looked at the exit and grinned. About an hour ago they had decided to race to see who could get out of the tunnel first. Whoever lost had to treat the winner to a meal.

The two lunged forward, sprinting up the stairs two at a time. They passed the applicants in front of them with ease, and whirled past the examiner Satotz who had come to a stop after exiting the tunnel. They jumped into the light at the same time, yelling, "Goal!"

The two landed simultaneously on the square of concrete that was outside the exit of the tunnel.

"Yay! I win!" Gon yelled.

"What are you talking about? I was faster!" Killua argued back.

"No, I did!"

The two continue to argue, back and forth, until Gon asked the examiner which of them had finished first.

"I believe you both crossed the finish line simultaneously," Satotz replied.

"Oh…" Gon's eyebrows furrowed and he turned back to Killua. "Then I'll buy you dinner!"

"Huh?"

"Then you buy me dinner, okay?"

Killua slumped forward, his reply tinged with confusion. "Isn't that kinda pointless?"

Gon then turned back to the examiner. "Satotz-san, is this where the second exam phase takes place?"

"No, we still have quite a way to go," Satotz replied in a matter-of-fact way.

"Oh..." Gon trailed off as more applicants crossed the finish line and jogged into the light.

=o=o=o=

Several minutes later, Leorio staggered up the last set of stairs and fell to his knees on the concrete, chest heaving for air. It sounded like he was trying to throw up a lung.

Meanwhile, Asterra and Kurapika trotted up the last set of stairs, their breathing not as labored as Leorio's.

Asterra slowed to a stop. "You okay, Leorio? You look a little out of breath."

"Shut…up…Asterra!" Leorio wheezed.

She chuckled and put her hands on her hips as her own breathing slowed to its normal rate. The girl also shook out her legs as her eyes scanned this new environment, but the milky fog made it impossible to pick out any helpful details with regards to the terrain. All she could really see were the silhouettes of applicants and all she could hear were the sounds of gasping and rasping.

"Wow, I never thought I'd be so happy to see daylight again," Kikiri said as he poked his head out of the backpack.

"Says the one who wasn't running," Asterra muttered.

"Hey, I was still there with you."

"Yeah yeah." Asterra rolled her eyes.

"Hey Kurapika, Asterra!" Gon's voice said from beside them. The boy and his silver-haired companion were sitting in front of the exit.

Kurapika raised a hand in greeting. "Is this the goal?" he asked between breaths.

"Nope. Apparently it isn't."

If Kurapika felt any disappointment, he didn't show it. "I see."

"Hey Gon," Asterra said. "Who's the kid next to you?"

"This is Killua!" Gon said.

"Yo," Killua said coolly.

"Hey," Asterra greeted back as Kurapika pointed out that the fog was clearing.

The fog completely dissipated in a matter of minutes, the white curtain disappearing to reveal their surroundings. The tunnel exit was situated on top of a hill that was devoid of any trees and dominated by grass and other assorted shrubbery. Beyond the base of the hill, though, was the dark realm of trees.

"These wetlands are the Numere Wetlands, also known as the Swindlers' Swamp," Satotz explained. "We will be running through this area to reach the second phase of the exam.

"Now, I must warn you: this place is home to many bizarre animals. Many of them are cunning creatures that are more than willing to prey on humans. Please do be careful-if you let them fool you, you're dead."

Applicants gulped at the warning that had been said in a very matter-of-fact way. _Well, this is more like the Hunter Exam stories people back home used to tell,_ Asterra thought _._

There was a creaking sound as metal shutters descended. "Wait!" an applicant shouted, but the shutters ignored him and closed shut in his face.

Satotz continued, "These wetland creatures will use every trick in the book to fool their prey. As a result, an ecosystem in which creatures obtain food through deception was created; hence the name Swindlers' Swamp. Stay very close to me so you won't be deceived."

Leorio laughed. "How can they fool us when we're expecting it?"

"Don't let him fool you!"

The crowd of applicants turned to the source of the voice. A man with short dirty-blonde hair and a face covered in bruises struggled into sight. "D-don't fall for it…He's lying to you!" He pointed directly at Satotz and the crowd of people parted. And for the first time, Asterra saw their examiner: a man dressed in a purplish suit with light purple hair parted in the middle, and a mustache that was impeccably curled on both sides. He also, for some reason, didn't seem to have a mouth.

The injured man continued, "He's an impostor! He isn't the real examiner; I am!"

The crowd buzzed.

"An impostor?" Leorio repeated, looking between the injured man and Satotz. "What's going on?"

"Then who is this guy?" a bald man in black clothes with a red scarf asked.

"Look at this!" The injured man dragged something into view…

And held up a limp, monkey-like animal with a face similar to Satotz's, except this monkey actually had a mouth and tongue lolling out of it.

Asterra's eyes widened.

The crowd roared.

"Wow, he looks just like Satotz-san!" Gon exclaimed.

"It's a Man-Faced Ape, one of the creatures that dwell in the Numere Wetlands!" the injured man claimed.

"A Man-Faced Ape?" the crowd buzzed.

"Man-Faced Apes love the taste of fresh human flesh. However, their limbs are long and thin so they're quite weak. That's why they disguise themselves as humans, trick other humans into following them into these wetlands, and team up with other animals to kill and devour them."

 _"_ What a lovely bunch _,"_ Asterra muttered. Kikiri intently stared at the self-proclaimed examiner and the monkey that he held.

"That 'examiner' intends to trap every single applicant and make a feast out of all of you!"

Many applicants turned toward Satotz, suspicion in their eyes.

"Bastard…" Leorio growled.

"Well, that would explain why he doesn't walk like a normal human," the bald man said.

At the sound of the mutterings of doubt within the crowd, the injured man smirked.

In the next moment there was the sound off something flying through the air and blurs flew at the injured man and Satotz simultaneously. The smirk that had formed on the injured man's face disappeared as playing cards embedded themselves into his body. The crowd gaped as the man toppled backwards, dead.

Satotz, on the other hand, neatly caught the three cards that had sailed through the air at him.

There was the sound of shuffling cards and Asterra looked towards the sound to see that Hisoka was the one doing the action. The magician chuckled. "That settles it…" he opened his eyes and raised his gaze. "You're the real one."

At the end of his gaze was Satotz.

Satotz held up the cards Hisoka had thrown at him and tossed them to the side.

Hisoka continued, "Examiners are Hunters selected by the committee to perform this duty without pay. Any Hunter would have been able to block that attack."

"I shall take that as a compliment," Satotz replied, then continued in a firm voice. "However, should you attack me again, for any reason, I will report you for turning on an examiner and you will be disqualified immediately. Am I clear?"

Hisoka smirked. "Crystal."

The magician's reply was followed with a chorus of screeches. The crowd of applicants turned to see that the dirty blonde-haired man was now being pecked at and ripped apart by a flock of vultures.

"Nature sure can be brutal to watch," Leorio muttered as a vulture plucked out an eye.

Asterra looked upon the scene impassively. She had seen Kikiri kill small animals and eat them so many times before that she was used to these kinds of sights and sounds.

"I suppose he was the Man-Faced Ape…" Kurapika added.

"He was attempting to confuse the applicants and lure some of them away." Satotz walked through the crowd. "This is one of the many kinds of deception that is carried out on a daily basis here. Hopefully you are now better aware of the gravity of your situation-if you lose sight of me in this fog or if you are fooled by the swamp's inhabitants, you will become a mere source of food and you will never reach the exam's Second Phase. Do bear that in mind."

A nervous silence filled the air.

"On that note, let us be on our way. Please, follow me." With that, Satotz began walking with inhumanely long strides down the hill.

**As always, thanks for reading to the end.**

**Have a good morning/day/night/whenever you're reading this :)**

**-Rhyss**


	8. Deceit and Trials, Part I

**Two things before you start reading:**

**1\. Thank you to the people who have left me reviews and those who have favorited and/or followed this story. I really appreciate it.**

**2\. This episode is one of my favorites in the Hunter Exam Arc, so I hope I do it justice.**

**So, enough said for now. On with the show!**

* * *

The 368 applicants that had made it out of the long underground tunnel now half-ran, half-sloshed through the muggy Swindler's Swamp.

"Tsk, another marathon," Leorio muttered.

"And we're running through marsh this time," Kurapika added. "It'll burn more energy than running on concrete."

"That and we have to deal with soggy shoes," Asterra spoke up, every step she took accompanied by a squelching sound as her sneakers. Her instructors would have had a fit if they saw her in this state, considering the fact they hammered into the heads of all trainees that one of the key rules of survival was keeping your head, chest, and feet dry and warm at all times.

"Seriously? Of all the things to worry about, you're worrying about _soggy shoes_?" Leorio asked in an exasperated tone.

"Hey, feet are important!" She shot back. "Expose them to these conditions"-she waved her arm at the swamp around them-"too long and you'll get trench foot and screw yourself over!"

"Trench foot takes at least 13 hours to set in, though," Leorio added. "I think we'll be okay."

"Unless we get stuck here."

"Loving the optimism, sunshine," Kikiri drawled from her shoulder.

"Shut up, Kikiri. Or I'll make you run too."

Leorio and Kurapika looked at each other as girl and Dokujo continued to bicker among themselves. From their conversation, the two seemed more like siblings rather than pet and master.

The crowd of applicants continued, single-mindedly following Satotz into a particularly dark and foggy section of the forest. The gloomy atmosphere made the area seem like the perfect habitat for some titular monster of a horror movie. Applicants found themselves stealing glances at the trees, on the lookout for said monster to leap out and snatch a couple of applicants as snacks.

By this time a formation of sorts had been established. There was the usual group at the front: the people Tonpa had introduced, some people Asterra didn't know, Gon and Killua. In the middle was more applicants Asterra didn't know, Hisoka, and a group of men that wore variations of a blue uniform. And behind them were Asterra, Leorio and Kurapika as well as some other applicants.

"All right…" one member of the group-a man with a short, low ponytail-started in a low voice. "This is our chance. Let's take advantage of the fog to get rid of him!"

The group of men turned to the red-haired magician running in front of them and nodded.

Killua felt the tension thicken in the air behind him and he glanced back. Tch. It was that Hisoka guy, slowly but surely being surrounded by the group of men in blue. He faced forward again. "Gon, let's move up."

The boy nodded. "Good idea; we don't want to lose sight of the examiner."

"Actually I'm more concerned about getting as far away as possible from Hisoka. He's bad news; I can smell it."

"Smell it?" Gon sniffed the air. Only the smells associated with dampness entered his nose. "I don't think he smells." The dark-haired boy then turned backwards and yelled, "Leorio, Kurapika, Asterra! Killua says we should move up!"

"Gon!" Killua said in an exasperated tone. "Seriously, can't you feel the tension around us?"

"Idiot!" Leorio hollered back, pumping his arms so much that he probably lost as much swinging his arms as he did moving his feet. "If I had the strength I'd already be there!"

"Don't worry about us!" Kurapika yelled. "Go on ahead!"

"What? But…" Gon trailed off.

"Let's go, Gon," Killua urged and accelerated.

"Hey, wait up!" Gon yelled and picked up his pace as well.

=o=o=o=

A few minutes passed, and the fog around the applicants thickened until visibility was near zero. Seeing something became impossible unless that something was less than a foot away from the applicant.

"We can't even tell which way we're going," Kurapika said.

"Don't worry," Leorio replied, beckoning with his chin at the silhouettes of people. "As long as we don't lose sight of the guys ahead of us…"

Asterra thought about pointing out that those shadows might be a trick of the wetland inhabitants. Before she had a chance to do so, though, the head of one silhouette just rolled off of its shoulders, as if its neck had suddenly disintegrated.

Kikiri sharply breathed in. Asterra choked and blinked but kept running. "Um…you guys saw that, right?"

If they didn't, the universe gave them a second chance to do so. In the next moment, one, two, three of the silhouettes running in front of them had their heads roll off of their shoulders as well. The silhouetted torsos fell to the side and disappeared into the fog.

"What the hell?!" Leorio yelped as the group of three and the applicants behind them skidded to a halt.

Things kept getting stranger as strawberries- _strawberries,_ of all things-the size of a human head came floating out of the mist. Asterra blinked, rubbed her eyes, and opened them again.

The strawberries were still there.

"I-I'm tripping," she heard an applicant stammer. "I have to be."

Asterra would have said the same thing if it weren't for the fact that she didn't do drugs.

But how else could there be gigantic strawberries floating in midair in a place like this?

The girl's eyes widened as a possible theory sprung up in her mind. Was there a hallucinogen in the air? Some poisonous pollen or pheromone of some sort? Asterra covered her nose and mouth with a hand, even though doing so now was useless. If there truly was something poisonous in the air, it would already be in her system by now and she would be screwed.

An applicant took a step past Kurapika and was suddenly yanked towards the ground with a scream.

The applicants' heads turned toward the sound and looked up as the sound seemed to travel skyward, as if the screaming applicant had suddenly learned how to fly. Then there was a prehistoric roar, much different from the scream of a human. The applicants' heads swiveled, eyes combing the milky fog for the source of the roar.

There was a thud and a whooshing sound and some of the fog cleared-

-to reveal that the applicant was caught between tan-colored jaws set with wickedly sharp teeth.

The jaw was part of a dinosaur-like head of the same color, and the head was connected to the body by a long, relatively skinny neck. The creature's back was covered by a red shell similar in shape to that of a tortoise that had strawberry-shaped growths sprouting out of them.

Well that explained the puzzling appearance of the strawberries; it also proved that the fruit hadn't been part of an illusion evoked by a hallucinogen. But now the applicants had a hungry, carnivorous dinosaur the size of a small sports dome to worry about.

The dinosaur chewed up the man in his jaws with a few bites, then tilted its head back and swallowed him in one gulp.

"What is that?!" Asterra yelled as she looked for a possible weakness.

To the majority of applicants, it was something to run away screaming from. Desperate feet kicked up swamp mud all around as the applicants sprinted away from the dinosaur. That was the most natural, smart thing to do.

"Be careful!" Kikiri suddenly screeched, his fur bristled and his teeth bared in a snarl. "There's two of them!"

Another roared ripped through the air from the direction in which the applicants were running in. More sickening sounds of bone being crushed joined the cacophony of feasting and death.

The appearance of a second creature only added to the chaos. Applicants now scattered blindly and desperately, not knowing which way was the right way anymore because of the dense fog and the other monsters it could be hiding.

"This is bad…" Kurapika murmured, taking a few steps back. Leorio and Asterra did the same until all three of their backs touched.

Sounds of heavy footsteps thudding into marshy ground echoed around them. The screaming faded away as applicants managed to run far, far away from the two dinosaurs. Soon Leorio, Asterra, and Kurapika were the only ones left in the clearing.

The two dinosaurs hidden by the fog circled them, taking step by agonizing step. The scene was reminiscent of wolves circling their hapless prey.

The three gulped as the dinosaurs poked their heads out from the cover of the fog.

=o=o=o=

Screaming and fog surrounded Gon and Killua as the two ran through the swamp by themselves.

"That's a lot of screaming…" Gon noted uneasily as he looked around. He didn't like the idea that the sound of screaming was becoming just as constant as the presence of the fog.

Killua kept his eyes forward. "Just stay on your guard," the boy replied simply in a tone that sounded unfazed by the current situation.

Gon turned back around. "I hope the others are okay…"

"Focus, Gon," Killua warned. "Or you'll-"

Killua's words were cut off as the ground beneath his and Gon's feet crumbled.

The boys yelled as they plummeted back-first into a dark hole and the grey sky became farther and farther away. Then even the sky disappeared as something dark clamped shut over their heads, sending them into complete darkness.

=o=o=o=

Back in the foggy clearing, Leorio was flying through the air high above the ground.

To be more accurate, he was hanging onto a log wedged between the dinosaur's jaws that was the only thing preventing the beast from chomping his arms off.

"Leorio!" Kurapika yelled.

A wordless holler answered the blonde as Leorio continued to hang on for dear life. The creature's jaws exerted as much force as possible to snap that irritating log in half and bite into succulent flesh.

Kurapika leaped up into the air, wooden swords drawn. He reached peak height and started to plummet, the point of his wooden swords facing downwards. Down, down, down he descended and as he neared the dinosaur's head, he raised his swords over his head.

A moment later the creature screamed as Kurapika thrust his two swords into its eye. The dinosaur screwed its eyes shut and its jaws snapped open involuntarily. The log fell from its mouth and Leorio fell with it, plummeting to the ground and landing on his rear with a grunt.

Kurapika leaped off the creature's swinging head and landed on his feet with a cat-like grace. "Leorio, Asterra, let's go!" he yelled and started running. Leorio scrabbled up to his feet and pivoted to follow, only to have his whole face be contorted into an "o" shape from shock. "Kurapika!" He hollered. "Behind you!"

The blonde whirled forward to see a large tan-colored foot slam into the ground in front of him. He backpedaled then leaped back to avoid another one of the beast's steps. The beast's head reared back and started to lunge toward him-

"Like hell you are!" Asterra's voice roared.

Kurapika and Leorio turned their gaze upwards towards the sound of the girl's voice. "How the…?" Leorio gaped.

They found Asterra kneeling on one knee on top of the dinosaur's head, holding onto some handhold she had found. The girl raised her hands, right hand wrapped around left fist, high above her head.

Then Asterra threw her arms downward with every bit of strength she could muster and slammed her hands into the eye of the dinosaur.

A bellow of pain erupted from the dinosaur's mouth and it threw its head around wildly. Asterra went flying off the beast's head.

The girl wrapped her arms around Kikiri and curled inwards, bracing herself for impact. She hit the ground shoulder-first and bounced once, twice, thrice before finally skidding to a stop.

Leorio and Kurapika ran towards her. "You okay?" Leorio asked as she bounced back up to her feet.

"I'm fine!" she yelled as Kikiri flashed up to his usual position on her shoulders. "Let's get out of here!"

The three sprinted for their lives out of the clearing before the bellowing beasts could recover and attack them again.

=o=o=o=

"Oof!" Gon and Killua landed in something wet, squishy and slimy. The air felt hotter than the air of the swamp.

"What the heck?" Killua tried to jump up, only to slip and fall on his rear again. "What is this place?"

"I don't kn-Ouch!" Gon suddenly yelled as a burning droplet of something fell onto his hand. He brushed it away hurriedly, only to have more small droplets of fire fall onto the bare skin of his hands.

Killua felt a droplet singe his skin and his eyes widened. Acid.

They were in an animal's stomach, being pelted by acid.

"Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch!" he heard Gon hiss in the darkness.

The silver-haired boy made his way to a side of the stomach and felt around for a weakness, an opening of some kind in the wall of flesh that surrounded them. But all his fingers ran over was slime. "Tch," he hissed and punched the wall of the stomach out of frustration. The mucus that covered the tissue would coat any blade and dull its edge, making it impossible for anything stuck in here to carve its way out.

More droplets fell onto bare skin. He needed a plan B, fast, before he and Gon were completely dissolved into a fleshy, bloody smoothie.

He wiped his hands on his shorts and his hands hit something cylindrical. He looked down at the pocket, wondering what it was, then remembered. It was the orange juice that old timer had given him-the one with the poison in it. Maybe, just maybe...

He yanked the can out of his pocket and felt around for the tab. "Hang on, Gon!" The pop tab caught Killua's fingernail. "I'll get us out of here!"

"How?" Gon asked.

"With this!" Killua pulled back the tab and dumped the juice.

Ten, twenty seconds passed and suddenly the flesh beneath their feet heaved. A rumbling sound reverberated in the space around them and the walls of flesh convulsed. There was the sound of liquid rushing in and in the next moment the two boys were swept up in it.

"Wah!" Gon and Killua yelled as they were pressed up against the ceiling of the stomach.

There was another rumbling sound and the walls of flesh convulsed once more. Something sent the liquid shooting out of the stomach and the two were pulled under the surface. Both of them screwed their eyes and mouth shut and a moment later, they were thrown onto something hard.

The both of them coughed and gasped for a second.

Then Gon heard birds chirping and quickly shook his head. The boy opened his eyes to see that they were back outside in the Swindler's Swamp again, in a puddle of something pale and putrid-smelling.

The boy heard thudding and looked to see something distinctly toad-like in shape stomping off.

"Guess he didn't like the taste of us," Gon laughed, totally unfazed by the fact that he was covered in toad vomit.

"No, it was this." Killua held up an orange can of juice.

Gon looked over at the juice can the silver-haired boy was holding. "Hey, that's Tonpa-san's!" he exclaimed. "Looks like he saved us."

 _Ironically,_ Killua thought as he tossed the can aside and crossed his legs.

The dark-haired boy looked back. "I wonder how everybody else is doing…"

Killua stood up and shook toad vomit out of his hair. He couldn't understand Gon's preoccupation with those three older applicants whose names he couldn't bother to remember. Gon didn't know where they were or what they were going through, and worrying wasn't going to do anything about it.

He and Gon, on the other hand, had just been in a toad's stomach seconds before, on the brink of being made into a smoothie! Why didn't he show a little more concern for them?

"Forget about them," the pale boy replied irritably. "Let's get a move on. We can still catch up to the examiner if we book it." With that he started running off again.

Gon bounced up to his feet and followed for a few steps too, until something in the air changed.

He looked behind him, eyes narrowed and mouth set in a grim line. Something was going to happen to the three older applicants soon-he could feel it. He couldn't tell what, but he knew that it was something that could end really, really badly.

=o=o=o=

"We've lost sight of the front-runners," Kurapika breathed.

"Tch, which way are we supposed to go?" Leorio hissed as he looked around for any signs of a path.

Asterra looked around for a path and any signs of humans as well. She also wondered how difficult it would be to make a living here, in the event that they became completely lost.

Her analysis of the surroundings was interrupted by Leorio, who suddenly hissed "Stop!" and threw both of his arms out to block Kurapika's and Asterra's paths. The two halted.

"Look over there." Leorio pointed at a silhouette in front of them, just past the wall of bushes.

The two teens looked over to see a familiar red-haired applicant.

Hisoka.

Asterra gulped. Of all the applicants they could have run into, they had to run into the worst of them.

The magician was currently standing in a clearing, surrounded by a bunch of men in blue with wooden weapons.

The three became as quiet as possible and watched the scene play itself out.

"The second I laid eyes on you last year, I knew you weren't Hunter material," the man with the small ponytail started. He seemed to be the leader, from the way he stood directly in front of Hisoka. Apparently he also expected Hisoka to go down easily, from the way he stood flat-footed and crossed his arms instead of holding a weapon.

A dark skinned man holding a staff spoke next, thrusting the staff forward slightly. "We'll spare you if you swear not to take the Hunter Exam again."

"Sure," Hisoka replied calmly. The applicants in blue inhaled sharply and the magician continued, "I'm passing this year anyway, so I won't need to retake it."

The leader of the group scoffed. "Pass? You idiot, look at this fog! There's no way you can determine the direction the main pack went!"

A man with tonfas followed, "Don't you get it? We've all failed the exam!"

Hisoka chuckled darkly. "So that's why you wish to play examiner, eh?" He looked up at the leader, cold yellow-gold eyes contrasting the faint smile on his face. "I have a better idea. Why don't I play examiner"-he flicked his wrist and a playing card appeared in his hands-"and judge whether you are Hunter material?" Hisoka held up the card-a four of spades.

The leader gritted his teeth and in the next moment everybody else but him lunged at the magician, roaring, "Shut up!" Weapons of all kinds-tonfas, staffs, daggers, spears, nunchuchks-converged upon Hisoka.

Then something happened. Asterra didn't know exactly what because it had happened so fast-all she had seen was Hisoka's arm blurring and the man spinning-but something must have happened because blood didn't spurt out of people's chests on its own.

The men crumpled to their knees and fell forward onto their chests with a thud. Blood flowed freely from each wound, carrying the life of its previous owner with it.

The leader's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as he gaped at the sight, mouth opening and closing like that of a suffocating goldfish's. His breathing quavered.

Hisoka turned towards the leader. "Now, then…"

The man fell on his rear as if all the bones in his legs had turned to jelly. Whimpering trickled from trembling lips and he started to crawl away on all fours.

Hisoka impassively walked after him.

"H-H-Help!" the former leader whimpered, his face etched in an expression of pure terror.

Hisoka's arm blurred.

"Hel-" The man's words were cut off as a playing card embedded itself into the back of his head. The light faded from his eyes and he fell face-first into the mud.

The trio looked upon the scene, mouths wide. Hisoka retrieved his playing card with a slight tug and a little blood spurted from the wound.

And at that precise moment the fog that had kept Leorio, Kurapika and Asterra hidden from view began to melt away.

Hisoka set his eyes on the now visible applicants, and asked in a whispery voice, "Care to participate in my little game of examiner, you three?"

* * *

**I know that the episode didn't actually show Killua and Gon in the frog's stomach, but I couldn't resist writing a scene where they were.**

**Tune in next time for vs. Hisoka...dun dun du~n!**

**Thanks for reading:)**

**-Rhyss**


	9. Deceit and Trials, Part II

**Enjoy the chapter :)**

* * *

"Care to participate in my little game of examiner, you three?" The magician asked, slanted gold-colored eyes zeroed in on them as he walked past the freshest corpse nonchalantly.

_How many has he killed?_ Asterra thought. Ordinary people couldn't walk past a corpse in such a casual manner.

The three lowered their stance and gritted their teeth as the distance between them and Hisoka decreased.

"Leorio, Asterra," Kurapika started. "On my signal, run in different directions."

"What?" Leorio hissed. Asterra looked to Kurapika.

"Hisoka is more experienced than any of us in real combat. Even if the three of us attacked him at once, we wouldn't stand a chance against him. We can't afford to squander time in a pointless fight like this one!"

Asterra looked back at the advancing magician and murmured to Kikiri. Then she reached into her pocket and her fingers curled around her pocket knife.

Leorio and Kurapika might not have had experience, but she had years of Training under her belt. And all of it was screaming at her to stand her ground.

With a quick flick of the wrist another playing card appeared in Hisoka's hand. The magician neared the ring of corpses, and the distance between the parties continued to decrease, step by agonizing step. He came to a stop and raised his hand.

"Now!" Kurapika yelled.

The applicants and one Dokujo ran off with the splashing of mud, heading straight for the trees. However Hisoka made no effort to sprint after them; instead, he just mused, "I see…that's a wise decision you've made."

A dark chuckle filled the clearing, and it made the scavengers that had come to feast on the fresh corpses scamper off squeaking in terror. Hisoka then turned to the figure who still stood in the clearing. "But if that's the case…what are you still doing here?"

Sea green eyes met golden ones defiantly and Asterra replied, "Can't pass a test you don't take. Besides, I don't have a third eye."

"Third eye…now where have I heard that saying before?" Hisoka put a hand to his chin. After a few moments of contemplating he continued, "Ah, I know; you're a Resca, aren't you?"

Asterra narrowed her eyes and replied, "I am." Who was this magician, exactly? Her clan was a rather obscure one by international standards, often labeled as an "ethnic minority" by scholars. Outside the realm of academia the clan was known only in a few select circles. Only a handful of non-clansmen could recognize one of her clan's Sayings, like the one she had just alluded to—"Turn not your back on an enemy unless you have a third eye on your spine."

"How did you know?" she asked.

"I've heard some Resca mercenaries say the same thing before."

That made sense. A good portion of her clansmen were mercenaries and rather successful ones at that, from the way they never seemed to be starved for job offers. "I see. Guess you've been around then." Asterra's calm reply was followed by a soft click and a blurring of her arm. Hisoka cocked his head to the side and a pocket knife with its blade drawn out hissed by his ear. The weapon thudded into the mud a few feet away.

Hisoka smirked. "Goodness. That's rather rude of you, isn't it? Throwing a knife at me during a civil conversation."

There was no answer from Asterra, and by the time Hisoka's head had returned to its normal position she was within arm's length of him. Her arm blurred again and a straight whistled through the air, heading right for Hisoka's gut. The magician took a step to the side to avoid it. Momentum carried her body forward into another step but it didn't stop her eyes from trailing her opponent. She saw him in her peripherals for a moment, then the magician disappeared from sight as Asterra's foot hit the ground.

"Over here~" Asterra whirled around towards Hisoka's voice to see a black boot heading right for her chest. The boot was too fast: her arms wouldn't be fast enough to be of any use.

But gravity would.

So the girl leaned back and let the weight of her head drag her body downwards. Hisoka's boot sailed over her chest and chin with only inches to spare.

Asterra let herself continue to fall backwards and caught herself on her palms. Momentum carried her into a backflip and her foot sped towards Hisoka's face.

She didn't see the look of delight that lit up Hisoka's face.

For a moment, it looked like her foot was going to connect with his chin—

—but she didn't feel the jarring of heel slamming into the chin bone.

Instead she felt her foot sail through air. She didn't see that it had actually sliced through Hisoka's face like a knife through butter; she didn't see how the tall man seemed to dissolve into the air like smoke.

_What the-?_ The girl landed in a crouch and stood up. Before she could look up, though, the green of the marsh grass was replaced with white and pink.

A fist buried itself in her stomach with the force of a freight train running at full speed. A sharp gasp escaped Asterra as all the air in her body was punched out of her.

The Resca pulled her arms in and went bouncing and barrel-rolling across the clearing. Sticks and leaves tangled their way into her hair; swamp mud splattered her face and clothes.

Her world finally stopped spinning as came to a stop on her side, ear to the sodden ground and breathless. She curled up into a fetal position, stomach throbbing, and coughed once, twice, thrice. Her breakfast threatened to come up with each cough; she could taste the vomit at the back of her throat.

But her mind and pride screamed at her to stand up, to fight. To not just lie there and be trampled like some insignificant insect. So the Resca gripped the grass and snapped back up, ignoring her abdomen's pleas to not do so lest it got pummeled again.

Hisoka didn't move for a few moments and he had an expression of somebody contemplating something. Asterra thought about attacking but before she could act again he mused, "I guess a little experiment couldn't hurt."

_Experiment?_ Confusion clouded Asterra's mind for a moment. Then she saw Hisoka's posture change, saw it tipping forward into a lunge, and readied herself. Visualizations of what kind of attack could be coming next flitted through her mind.

But Hisoka's next actions were cut short by the sound of somebody walking towards them. Both opponents turned their heads toward the source of the sound, which was a tall silhouette walking towards them through the mist. In the silhouette's hand was a sturdy branch.

A distinct "oh shit" feeling filled Asterra as Leorio stepped into view. What was he doing here?

"I just can't do it," Leorio said as he stopped.

"Don't be an idiot, Leorio!" Asterra yelled. "Kurapika told you to run, didn't he?!"

"Look who's talking! He told you to run too!"

"The one who's talking has six years of combat training under her belt. I can take care of myself," Asterra shot back. She kept a single eye on Hisoka, her body limber and ready to act in response to the magician's next move. "Look, this isn't your fight; it's mine. I'll handle it. So get out of here before you get yourself killed!"

"No," Leorio shook his head. "Even if this isn't my fight…I can't just run away"—his grip on the branch tightened—"without doing anything!"

With that Leorio lunged at Hisoka with a roar, branch raised high.

_Idiot!_

Hisoka turned to his right to face the incoming Leorio. But after doing so the magician just stood there, flatfooted. Then he added, "Mmm, I adore that look too."

This couldn't end well.

Hisoka was going to dodge this strike. It was the easiest thing to do and Asterra couldn't imagine him doing anything else in response to such a strongly telegraphed attack. In addition, Leorio was fully committed, which meant that it was going to be impossible for him to react immediately after missing the magician. The result: Leorio was going to be exposed and defenseless to any and all of Hisoka's attacks for a good half to one second. Asterra knew Hisoka's speed from his earlier display; it wouldn't even take half a second for him to land the killing blow.

Leorio swung his branch down hard and it passed right through the magician. _An illusion_ , Asterra thought. _That must have been what he used that time_.

The magician dissolved into the air; the branch hit the ground and took Leorio with it. It was impossible for him to change direction, but his head could still turn to see that Hisoka had reappeared behind him.

Hisoka's hands neared Leorio, his long, pale fingers ready to curl around the green necktie that fluttered in the air. But they stopped for a moment as Hisoka saw an orange and white blur shoot towards him.

The hand had only stopped for a moment, but that was all the time Asterra needed.

The girl slammed shoulder-first into Leorio's side with a force that sent Leorio bouncing across the clearing farther than she had intended. Gravity dragged her downwards and Asterra let it lead her into a roll that allowed her to take a squatting position between Leorio and Hisoka.

"Helping out a friend?" He asked.

Asterra bit her lip at the word. No, Leorio wasn't a friend. He hadn't been in her life long enough to be one. Besides, she didn't need friends; she needed people who would help her pass this exam. "He's just more use to me alive than dead," she replied simply.

"More use?!" Leorio fumed. "What kind of wording is that?!"

"My my, you're a cold one, aren't you?" Hisoka asked, then came straight at her. This time her arms could make it; they threw themselves in front of her face to take the blow. A nanosecond later a tremendous force crashed into her arms and sent her skidding across the clearing on the balls of her feet.

Asterra came to a stop and fell to her knees. She started falling forward and her arms flashed out to prevent herself from faceplanting into the mud. Pain raced through the limbs as her body weight fell upon them and the Resca winced. If she survived this fight, her arms would be badly bruised tomorrow.

"You…what are you…?" Hisoka asked, curiosity in his voice.

Asterra looked up at Hisoka. "A human…?" she replied questioningly.

Hisoka put a hand on his hip. "I know that the Resca are known for their strength and sturdiness. But that kick should've broken at least one of your arms."

Asterra's eyes widened as she stood up. _What?_

"You seem fine though; I wonder why?" the magician mused. He cocked his head. "Do you have gauntlets under those sleeves, perhaps?"

She had nothing of the sort.

Was Hisoka being serious, or was this some sick psychological trick that was supposed to throw her off?

The redheaded magician walked towards her and Asterra put her fists in front of her face. _Don't think about that. Focus on the present. Focus on what you can do now._

Another smile lit up Hisoka's face in response to the girl's action and he regarded Asterra's expression. The girl's narrowed eyes shone with a feral, defiant light and her lips were pressed into a thin line. She was clearly outclassed by him—she must have known that by now—but her eyes told him that she wasn't going to go down easy.

"That is a delicious expression," he murmured, his tongue running over his lips. The words, his tone, and his actions slithered into her mind, awakening a fear that crawled up Asterra's spine in the form of chills. The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

_Respect all, fear none._ She mentally repeated the Resca saying like a mantra but it didn't help her stave off the fear that made her insides go cold. Something was wrong with this Hisoka person and the air surrounding him. The Resca couldn't see anything, yet she felt a sort of impending doom hanging in the air that was so strong and heavy it seemed solid. One moment it felt like a stage curtain made of heavy cloth was weighing onto her shoulders, pushing her down into the ground. Then the malice changed shape and it was like there was some creature under Hisoka's command, something invisible and huge that was currently looming over her and holding a claw to her throat. She put a hand to larynx. Her fingers felt nothing, save for perspiration and a rushing pulse.

Hisoka came within ten feet of her and Asterra looked up at him. She had to act, but her muscles had tensed up at some point and now they refused to move.

_Move, Asterra!_

Her body didn't respond.

_Move, dammit!_

Hisoka reached a point six feet away from her and a streak of red-brown launched itself from the grass.

A sense of relief filled Asterra as she saw the red-brown spiral up the magician's body. _Kikiri, you couldn't have come at a better time._ It was over-this tactic never failed. All Kikiri had to do was bite for five seconds and even Hisoka would fall to his knees, paralyzed. And that would be the end of the fight.

Or so she thought until Hisoka's pale fingers curled around the red-brown cord spiraling up his body.

"Oh? What's this?" Hisoka murmured, studying what writhing thing he was grasping in his hands. Kikiri snarled and snapped at Hisoka but failed to sink his teeth into any flesh. "Hmm, just a filthy Dokujo. How boring." And with that his grip on the Dokujo tightened.

Kikiri screeched in a way that Asterra never wanted to hear again.

"No, stop! Stop it, you bastard!" she screamed at Hisoka.

Her words fell on deaf ears; Hisoka's hand continued to clench mercilessly around the Dokujo, and its nails dug into the creature's skin.

Alarm bells shrilled in her head, each tolling one syllable at a deafening loudness. _No no no no no-_

"STOP IT!" The cold iciness that had frozen her muscles and bound her legs to the ground vaporized, sublimated by panic and hatred and fury and the fear of losing the Dokujo that was like a brother to her. Scarlet curtained her vision and Asterra lunged at the magician with a desperate roar.

"Asterra, wait!" Leorio yelled.

Hisoka looked up from the screaming and writhing Dokujo impassively and took in the girl rushing at him, her eyes burning with the intent to kill.

"You know, that look suits you." Hisoka raised his free hand to strike her with enough strength to knock her back but not enough to deter her from coming at him again with that look on her face.

For the magician loved those kinds of looks, because the thrills they gave him made him feel so, so _alive._

The girl neared, hand pulled back in a telegraphed punch that went against everything she had been taught.

Hisoka started to swing h-

CRACK!

Hisoka's face snapped back as a red blur smacked into his temple. His grip on Kikiri loosened and the Dokujo fell out of his grasp.

Asterra took advantage of the distraction to dive for the Dokujo. She caught him in one arm and cradled him against her chest. After her hold on the creature was solidified she then scrabbled away to a safe distance using her three other limbs. A downwards look revealed Kikiri gasping for breath with a panicked look in his eyes. Asterra felt along the Dokujo's flank, checking for anything-a bump, a dent in the wrong place-that would signify broken bones. She felt nothing, though. "You okay, Kikiri?"

The creature nodded as he continued to wheeze and rasp.

Asterra cried in relief and hugged the Dokujo, even though being squeezed again was the last thing the Dokujo wanted right now. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whispered over and over like a broken record.

The red blur went flying back and to its small, gasping owner's silhouette and the fog cleared a little.

"Gon?!" Leorio exclaimed. Asterra looked up from Kikiri to see that it was really the dark-haired boy, standing between a couple of trees. Leorio's briefcase lay on the ground near him.

"I made it…" Gon gasped between shuddering breaths.

_Made it?_ Had Gon somehow found out that they were being attacked by Hisoka? Questions swirled in Asterra's brain, her mind hungry for details despite the fact that this was not the time to interrogate the boy. _How? And how did he know this was the place?_

Hisoka shook his head and turned to where the strike had come from. "Not bad, little boy," he smiled.

Gon's narrowed eyes glared back at the magician. His grip on the fishing rod tightened.

"Is that a fishing rod?" Hisoka asked, eyes fixated on the small boy who had actually managed to hit him. The look on the child's face, although not filled with killing intent, made his blood sing in a delightful way as well. "What a fascinating weapon." He sauntered towards Gon, hand outstretched. "Can I have a closer look?"

That was when Leorio, whom Hisoka had turned his back on, roared. Asterra looked up to see Leorio rushing at the magician again, his branch raised.

The young man didn't have a chance. Hisoka moved at that blurring, impossible-to-see speed again and a moment later there was a resounding CRACK! When Hisoka was visible again, he was in the ending stance of an uppercut and Leorio was spinning through the air. There was a blur as his teashades flew in the other direction.

Leorio landed back first with a thud and didn't get up. He didn't even twitch.

Asterra looked to him, wondered if he was dead. She crept her way towards him, with Kikiri in one hand and an eye on the fight that was currently going on.

There was a yell and Gon appeared behind Hisoka, fishing rod over his head. The boy then swung the rod downwards.

Asterra inhaled sharply and held her breath, wishing for the blow to connect. For a moment, it looked like it had. But instead of the crack of metal against bone there was a wooshing sound as the fishing pole passed through another smoke lookalike.

Gon landed on his knees near where the lookalike used to be, a look of shock on his face. His head swiveled, eyes combing the fog for the red-haired magician.

"You came to help your friends?" Hisoka asked as he flitted into sight behind Gon. The boy almost jumped out of his boots, then recovered and leaped away, landing lightly on his feet. But Hisoka had somehow managed to get behind him again with that superhuman agility to murmur in Gon's ear, "Such a good boy."

Gon spun around on the balls of his feet again, swinging his fishing pole in a wide arc. But the weapon only sliced through another smoke lookalike.

Hisoka reappeared a couple of feet behind Gon. "And that expression is very nice, too…"

Gon leaped away from Hisoka, swinging his weapon wildly with each leap and hoping that the one of his strikes would land on Hisoka again. The red ball flew through the air, towards Hisoka. But the magician simply tilted his head left and right and the red ball sailed past him harmlessly. "Nice…very nice…" Hisoka murmured as he dodged the attacks. A smile lit up his face. "I'm getting really excited now…"

Gon narrowed his eyes as a new idea sprung into his mind. He swung his fishing rod downwards so that the ball thudded into the ground and kicked up loose mud. While Hisoka's attention was on the temporary wall of earth, Gon used his own superhuman agility to sneak up behind him. The boy raised his fishing rod with a roar.

Before he could do swing down, though, Hisoka's hand flashed in front of Gon. Long, pale fingers zigzagged past the fishing rod and wrapped around the boy's soft throat.

Gon choked in shock and his eyes widened. Then he started to writhe. The fishing rod fell to the ground with a clatter and the boy's hands gripped Hisoka's wrists in a futile attempt to somehow make the hand release him. His breaths came in shorter gasps as Hisoka's grip tightened.

Asterra, who had reached Leorio, set Kikiri down gently and put her middle and index finger to Leorio's jawline. Blood thumped steadily beneath the pads of her fingers and she breathed in relief. He was alive, albeit out cold with one hell of a bruise on his cheek.

Gasping sounds reached her ears and she looked toward the source of the sound. Her eyes stopped on the sight of Hisoka holding Gon by the throat at a point high above the ground. Gon's legs fumbled for ground that was more than a foot beneath them.

The sight of Gon fighting for his breath should have been the thing that made her act.

But it wasn't.

_He's distracted_. Asterra shot up from her crouch. Gon had landed a strike when he had caught Hisoka unawares; she could do the same thing too.

The Resca took a step and her foot hit something. A downwards glance revealed a penknife, different from hers, in the grass near Leorio's foot. Perhaps Leorio had lost it when Hisoka had sent him flying.

But in this situation, ownership didn't matter; what was important was that she had a weapon. She scooped it up and slid the blade out as she sprinted towards Hisoka's back. Within the seconds it took for her to reach him, she fixed her fingers around the hilt of the blade into a reverse grip—the grip best fit for downward stabbing—and aimed for the jugular blood vessels that channeled blood up and down Hisoka's neck.

Gon saw a blur of orange and white rush towards him and in the next moment Asterra seemed to materialize behind Hisoka. Her arm was raised, a knife glinted in her hand, and her eyes were hard and unflinching. The Resca thrust down the weapon—

—but the knife never bit into flesh.

The magician didn't even turn to face her, which was the reason why a too-focused Asterra didn't see his counterattack coming. But she definitely felt it as Hisoka's free hand struck her in the jaw. Stars blossomed in her vision and her world spun. She hit the ground hard and the knife flew out of her hand as she bounced across the clearing.

By the time the Resca had come to a stop, her starry world had gone dark and her body had gone limp.

Hisoka paid no mind to the second person he had knocked unconscious within a five minute period; instead he peered into Gon's face, whispering, "How wonderful…" Gon grimaced defiantly and his nails dug into Hisoka's skin. Hisoka's face split into an even wider grin and his eyes seemed to roll into the back of his head. "Such a lovely look..."

Gon gasped once more, then his body finally succumbed to oxygen deficiency. His struggling breaths stopped. His limbs went limp. His head sagged forward.

Then something unexpected happened.

Hisoka's expression turned from one of ecstasy to one of alarm, and the hand around Gon's throat hurriedly uncurled. The boy fell to the floor and landed on all fours.

Gon felt the pressure on his throat disappear and he hurriedly breathed in deeply to replenish oxygen. But he breathed too quickly and too deeply and as a result began to cough.

Hisoka then squatted by the coughing boy and reassured, "Don't worry."

Gon looked up at the magician, a question in his eyes.

"I haven't killed either of your friends." Hisoka smiled. Gon glanced at Leorio and Asterra who were both lying in the grass. Then he saw Asterra twitch and looked back to Hisoka.

The magician continued, "I didn't have a reason to, since they both passed. And for the record, you do too." A confused Gon, who didn't know how to react to this turn of events, continued to look back at Hisoka who said, "Grow up and become a fine Hunter, all right?"

There was a chirping sound from Hisoka's trouser pocket and the magician took out a cellphone. He hit the talk button.

"Hisoka, you should get back here," a garbled voice suggested. "We're nearly at the Phase Two site."

"Got it; I'll be right there." Hisoka turned off the phone and stood up. "It's always good to have friends."

The magician made his way over to where Leorio lay and slung the unconscious applicant over his shoulder. He then picked up Kikiri in the other hand. "You can find your own way back, right?"

Gon nodded once.

"That's a good boy," Hisoka smiled, then walked off. The fog curled around and enveloped him until he was completely obscured from view.

Gon was frozen that position for a while, just staring in the direction Hisoka had headed. His breaths shuddered, and beads of perspiration dripped from his skin. And his body wouldn't stop trembling.

He had nearly died.

He. Had. Nearly. Died.

The words swam through his head like disoriented fish, sluggishly making their way through a confused mind to the part of the brain where realizations took place.

The fact that he had just gone through a near-death experience explained the fear that chained his body in place. It explained why it felt like his muscles had turned to stone. It explained the shortness of his breaths and the trembling.

But it didn't explain the other emotion—a thrill-that made his blood sing and heart race even faster.

He stayed in that position, confused at the way he felt.

…

…

…

Kurapika's voice broke his trance-like state.

"Gon!" Kurapika called through the clearing. "Are you all right?"

Gon looked behind him to see the blonde applicant running through the clearing. The boy gulped and nodded in response as the blonde kneeled by him. Kurapika breathed out in relief and noticed that Gon was looking at something. The teen followed his gaze to see Asterra lying in the grass.

Kurapika made his way towards the girl. "Asterra! Hey!"

The sound of somebody calling her name floated into Asterra's ears and she opened her eyes slightly. She saw blonde hair and grey eyes through hazy vision. "Kura…pika?" she asked, then winced as pain flashed through her jaw. She put a hand up to her face and opened her mouth experimentally. It wasn't dislocated or broken, but it still hurt to move. That was going to bruise nicely.

"Are you all right?" Kurapika asked.

She struggled up into a sitting position. "I'll be fine. Nothing a little ice can't handle."

"Unfortunately we have none of it." He offered her his hand and she took it. "Can you run?" he asked as she stood up.

"I'll manage." Then her eyes widened and she whirled around.

"What?" Kurapika asked.

She looked at him with a face drained of color. "Where's Kikiri?"

"Hisoka took him and Leorio." Gon then saw the look on Asterra's face and added hurriedly, "Don't worry, I don't think Hisoka will hurt them, since you and Leorio passed."

Asterra bit her lip regardless. The idea of Kikiri being taken away by a psychopath who had been crushing him a few minutes ago didn't sit well with her. Then the girl realized that her pocket lacked the familiar weight of her pocket knife. She looked around again.

"Something else missing?" Kurapika asked.

"My pocket knife…" she replied. "And Leorio's…"

"I'll go find it," Gon offered, his voice a little flatter than usual.

"Seriously?" she asked. "They could be anywhere in this clearing."

"Leave it to me." The boy dashed off, leaving Asterra and Kurapika in the clearing.

The newfound peace made Asterra's body start to relax and the adrenaline that had kept her going until now broke down. And now Hisoka was gone and she was in a safer environment than before, a foreign realization dawned on her.

_We could have died._

The thought had passed through her mind during the fight, but adrenaline and her survival instinct had kicked in and prevented her brain from fully comprehending the statement. But now that adrenaline and the courage that came with it was gone, and in their place was a cold knot that made her sick to the stomach.

_We could have died._

The trembling began in her hands and it crept up her arms, then entered her torso and trickled down to her feet. Eventually her whole body was shaking, as if she had hypothermia. An invisible hand clamped around her throat.

_Hisoka could have killed me and Kikiri._

Now her breaths were shuddering uncontrollably; she felt lightheaded. Asterra gripped her left arm in an attempt to still her shaking body. But her body refused to stop its trembling as her mind continued to flounder about in this new type of fear that she had never experienced before.

Kurapika looked over to the Resca that was staring into the ground. "Asterra?"

The girl just continued to stare into the ground.

"Asterra? Are you sure you're okay?" Kurapika took a step closer and saw that the girl's body was shaking all over, heard the shortness of her breaths. He could only see her face in profile but he saw the colorlessness of it and how wide and terrified her eyes were. He recognized these symptoms-he had read them in a medical book he had picked up on a whim.

All these symptoms were those of a panic attack.

He had seen a much milder version of it in Gon a little earlier, but the boy had quickly recovered from it. Perhaps Asterra was more prone to them than him.

Asterra saw Kurapika near her from the corner of her eye.

_**Don't let him see you like this.** _

Asterra turned away from Kurapika and dug her nails into her arm, but the pain wasn't enough to snap her out of her current state of mind. But the voice of her reptile brain did manage to reach her through the suffocating fear.

_**Don't break down now. You can't break down now. It's too early in the exam and you're not in a safe enough place.** _

_**Focus on something else. Do something simple.** _

Trembling hands rose up to her hair.

_**That's it. Fix your hair,**_ the voice encouraged. _**Just because you feel like shit doesn't mean you have to look like it. And while you're at it, answer Kurapika too.**_

"I'm fine," she replied too quickly. Her fingers fumbled with her hair tie to take out what remained of her side ponytail—the majority of her hair hung free, torn out of the ponytail by all of the rolling around she had done. A good chunk of it was matted with mud.

"You don't look fine," Kurapika said back. Then he continued carefully in an even voice, "You know you're safe now, right? That Hisoka's gone?"

_**Joke back to him. It'll throw him off.** _

"Wouldn't be fixing my hair if he were still here."

Kurapika didn't smile, as the reply was said in too shaky of a voice to be considered a joke. "Why don't you sit down?" he suggested.

Sitting down sounded like a good idea at the moment. It would save her the embarrassment of toppling over as the result of her knees buckling.

The Resca sat down. Kurapika sat down as well, though he sat with his back to her to give her some privacy. He thought about saying more reassuring things, but that was bound to get old after a while for the both of them. Then he remembered how Asterra had said that her reason for becoming a Hunter was to get access to vast pools of information.

Well, not all information required a Hunter License to be heard.

So the Kurta started saying things he had read in books - he pointed out trees, described how some weather patterns were formed, the history of past civilizations, etc. - in a casual, conversational tone while keeping an eye out for signs of danger. It was said that emotions were contagious; he hoped that Asterra would "catch" his calm and get over her panic attack.

Asterra never really turned her head to Kurapika to signal that she was listening; instead she remained engrossed in the task that she had set out for herself. Her fingers found a twig and curled around it, then coaxed it out of her hair. She winced as a few strands of hair followed the twig out and dropped it.

Her fingers repeated the process over and over and over and over for the next couple of minutes, her reptile brain speaking to her. And in the background, she vaguely heard Kurapika saying things in a calming voice. The voices and each repetition combined helped her stammering heart slow down and the trembling stop. That cold fear that had started this domino effect seeped out of her mind.

Kurapika glanced back to Asterra again as he described the poisonous properties of the leaves of the Kirrilo tree. Some color had returned to her face and the trembling was starting to lessen in intensity.

By the time everything had been picked out of her hair an odd calm had replaced the icy fear and every other emotion she had felt before. The calm was unsettling—it made her feel strangely empty and still, as if she had suddenly been turned into a doll. But Asterra didn't question it, because it was now much easier to function and focus on what had to be done.

And _that_ was what mattered.

"Feel better?" Kurapika asked quietly as Asterra tied up her hair. He still had his back turned to her.

"Yeah," the girl nodded slightly and wiped mud off her face with a sleeve. Her eyes failed to meet his and looked to the bottom right.

Green lace-up boots suddenly appeared in front of her and a voice said, "Here you go."

She looked up to see Gon holding out two the two weapons she had lost.

The Resca stood up and thanked the smiling boy quietly as she pocketed the two weapons and zipped the pockets up in small, controlled movements.

"So, do either of you know where to go?" Kurapika asked as he stood up.

Gon replied, "I do."

"We'll follow you then," Kurapika said, and the three applicants set off.

=o=o=o=

A couple minutes of following Gon led them to a fog-free area with surprisingly well-made paths.

Gon sniffed the air as they came to a fork in the path. "This way." The teens followed him as he turned right.

"How can you tell?" Asterra asked.

"Leorio's cologne is really unique," Gon replied. "I can smell him from a mile away."

_So he's got the nose of a dog too,_ Asterra thought.

There was a brief silence, and then Gon spoke. "Hey, guys…" he started. "What do you think Hisoka meant when he said that we passed?"

Asterra shrugged.

"Hisoka said he was acting as a judge," Kurapika replied.

"A judge?" Gon repeated.

"Yes. Which means that he must have his own benchmarks for evaluating each applicant's strength. Considering you, Leorio, and Asterra are still alive, you must have met his standards."

Those must have been some low standards if she and Leorio had passed without landing a hit.

"But I couldn't do anything against him…" Gon murmured.

"Didn't you land a hit?" Kurapika asked.

"That was a surprise attack."

"And he said that Leorio and I passed, even though we had our asses handed to us," Asterra added quietly.

"Hmmm…" Kurapika looked down in thought. "Perhaps he thought that all of you were kindred spirits."

"Kindred spirits?" Gon repeated.

"I seriously doubt that Hisoka could qualify as a Hunter. However, I must admit that he is strong; his superhuman agility and graceful technique definitely impressed me."

_You should try fighting him. See how much he "impresses" you then_ , Asterra thought.

"It's quite common that those possessing special talents are drawn to others with unique gifts. Most likely, Hisoka's instincts and experience told him that you three had the skill and potential to become Hunters. To him, killing you now would have been a waste."

Gon and Asterra didn't reply, which made Kurapika backtrack, "I'm sorry; was that insensitive on my part?"

"Sometimes blunt honesty is the best policy," Asterra answered. If what Kurapika said was right, then to Hisoka she was nothing more than a piece of fruit that had yet to ripen. She was alive right now because she was being allowed to live by that freak.

The idea made her lip curl.

Gon answered no, then said something completely unexpected. "But you know, I kind of got excited."

Kurapika and Asterra blinked.

"I was so scared I wanted to run away, but I couldn't. And at the same time, I was excited." The boy turned back at the two teens with a smile on his face. "Isn't that weird?"

The two teens didn't answer.

Excited. That was definitely not how Asterra had responded to the fear Hisoka had evoked, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to respond to the fear in that manner. But it explained why Gon had not had a huge and absolutely _embarrassing_ panic attack like her after Hisoka had left. A panic attack that Kurapika had undoubtedly seen but had yet to comment upon.

Her fingers dug into her palms at the memory of the weakness. Would he use it against her? Use it to discredit her? Or exploit it in a more direct way? It wasn't guaranteed that the three of them would remain allies in this Exam; after all, Kurapika could easily become an enemy in the next minute, hour, or day. Not that it would be a crippling shock to her if the answer to either of those questions became a "yes" in the future.

Those kinds of practices had been commonplace in the dog-eat-dog environment she had spent the last six years in, after all.

=o=o=o=

Nobody spoke after Gon's words, which left the trio in the quietude of the forest that was barely disturbed by the sounds of their footsteps. The combined forces of time and the silence bled the anxiety from Asterra, who decided that she would observe how things went and cross bridges when she reached them.

The disappearance of anxiety left Asterra with a cooler head, allowing Asterra to review her encounter with Hisoka more objectively. She sent her legs on autopilot and dragged up the memory from her mind. Apparently the strike to the face hadn't killed too many brain cells, since her recollection of the event was more intact than expected. His blurring speed, his superhuman strength, his unnerving eyes, his fist burying itself in her gut…every moment, every detail, played back in her mind with an unusual, agonizing clarity.

Asterra chewed her lip. Despite all those hellish years of Training, despite being one of the best trainees of her age group, in the end she had been unable to even land a hit on Hisoka. That encounter had made her feel like she was a bumbling new trainee again, and that was a time of her life she did not want to relive.

The girl swallowed the disgust that rose in her throat and replayed the memory in her head again.

_What did I learn from that encounter?_

Asterra remembered her punch not hitting, her kick not connecting. She remembered Hisoka's fist thudding into her stomach, her arms bruising as a result of his blow.

_What did I learn?_

She remembered that invisible, oppressive dark thing that had permeated the air around Hisoka and the way it had made her muscles freeze.

_That I'm not biggest fish in the pond anymore._

As much as the Resca hated to admit it, she had no choice but to do so now that she had experienced the reality with her own skin. This was a brutal, in-her-face wake-up call that also gave new meaning to her mother's advice.

Up until now, she had heeded the piece of advice based on the logic that a group could achieve more than a single person. But now the Resca had gone through a near-death experience, she could look at that advice from another angle—larger groups meant an increased chance of survival.

There was no guarantee that Hisoka was the only applicant stronger than her-there were some 400 applicants in total. One slip-up, one wrong move in front of that kind of applicant and it would be game over for her.

Her hands clenched involuntarily. It was a commonly known statistic in her clan that three out of five Resca teens who took the Hunter Exam came back alive. But that was an average—in the past there had been years where no teens had returned alive. In those years, coffins and/or dog tags had come back instead.

Asterra had always thought that the teens had died because they had not been competent. Until now, she had been convinced that there was no way that she would come back in a coffin, because she was _very_ competent. She had not given thought to the idea that there were other people in this world that were stronger than her. And now life was shoving a bitter tonic down her throat—a tonic infused with the realization that being competent by Training standards did not guarantee coming back from the Exam alive.

…

Reality sunk in.

…

Gears that had not rotated for several years creaked to life.

…

Turning gears stoked embers that had long gone dim, embers that complacency had almost snuffed out completely.

…

And as the embers became a hungry, determined flame, her eyes lit up with conviction. A single, silent oath manifested itself in her mind, one she managed to uphold throughout this exam and for the rest of her life.

_I will not let arrogance numb my mind like that again._

…

And while she was at it, she would give that reality the one-fingered salute by surviving anything this exam flung at her.

* * *

**Yeesh, that was melodramatic haha.**

**Thanks for reading :)**

**-Rhyss**

**EDIT: At the end of chapter 15 I explain why Asterra was able to resist that kick in further detail. If you'd like to look at it quickly, then go ahead.**


	10. Pork and Eggs, Part I

The finish line for the First Phase came not in the form of a goal tape or a huge welcoming committee, but rather a building that looked like it had been plucked out of a fairytale and carelessly dropped into a forest.

Said building was a mansion of white, its entrances accented by graceful arches and pillars and its roof crowned with red shingles. The regal, fairytale look was enhanced by the presence of formidably thick walls made of white brick that belonged to a castle. The décor and color scheme made it stand out from the surrounding green foliage in the same way a red wine stain stood out on a white tablecloth.

The pathway that Kurapika, Asterra and Gon were running on led them right up to two massive metal gates around which the applicants were gathered around. The arrival of the three brought the number of applicants who had cleared the Swindler's Swamp to 148. Currently the majority of said 148 applicants were either doubled over, sitting down, or leaning against whatever solid object was available, trying to catch their breath before another challenge was thrown at them.

The three applicants slowed down to a walk. "Looks like we made it in time," Kurapika said.

Gon and Asterra could have cared less about that at the moment; both were looking left and right for Leorio and Kikiri, respectively.

"Hey, over here!" Gon yelled and the two older applicants rushed towards his voice. The three found Leorio sitting against a tree, dazed, right side of his face swollen. His teashades lay in his lap and Kikiri lay next to him, curled up in a ball.

"Kikiri!" Asterra half-yelled, picking up the Dokujo in a single scoop. "Wake up, wake up!"

Kikiri didn't open his eyes; instead he rolled over in her arms and muttered, "Gimme five more minutes…"

Asterra gave an exasperated laugh that had undertones of relief and shook her head.

Gon and Kurapika smiled at the scene, then Got set Leorio's briefcase down by the young man. "Man that stings…" Leorio winced, rubbing the side of his face with a confused look on his face. "Why am I all beat up?"

The three applicants looked Leorio, surprise written across their faces. "Don't you remember what happened?" Asterra asked.

"My memory's kinda hazy…" Leorio admitted. "I remember up to the point where Hisoka killed the guys in blue, but other than that..."

 _That must have been one hell of a hit,_ Asterra thought.

Then Asterra saw Kurapika beckon at her and Gon from the corner of her eye. She and the boy leaned towards the blonde, who then whispered, "Maybe we shouldn't tell him what happened."

"Yeah…" Gon replied.

"Why?" Asterra asked. "How's he supposed to learn from the fight?"

"The only thing Leorio could have learned from that fight is that a) Hisoka is clearly dangerous and skilled, and b) Hisoka could have killed him," Kurapika replied. "And if Leorio remembers seeing those applicants in blue being murdered, as he mentioned, he knows the two former facts already. Telling him that he could have been killed would just be cruel and unnecessary."

Asterra remembered her reaction to her realizing that Hisoka could have killed her. She didn't think that jogging his memory was completely unnecessary—she had found it extremely useful as a wake-up call. But if the action evoked a panic attack in Leorio as well…it would slow them down. "All right," the Resca nodded. "I won't say anything."

The three turned back to Leorio, who had opened both eyes. Said eyes widened as they saw the contusion blooming a vibrant blue-purple on Asterra's jaw. "Whoa, what happened to your face?"

Asterra chuckled softly at the question. "Probably not the best way to greet a girl, Leorio; stick with the standard 'Hey, how's it going?' Oh, and while we're at it—your face doesn't look any better."

"Hey, that doesn't answer the question!"

Asterra shrugged. "It's not like I have to." Then the Resca remembered that she still had Leorio's pocketknife with her. She dug the weapon out and threw it to the man. "Here."

Leorio caught the weapon with both hands. "My knife…? When did I lose this?"

"You…" Asterra fumbled for a lie, then found one. "You lost it when you were being swung around by that dinosaur."

"Really?" he looked down at the weapon and then put it in his trouser pocket. "Thanks."

Asterra nodded.

"Gon!"

Gon looked to the right to see Killua walking towards the group of four, hands in pockets and skateboard tucked under his arm.

"Killua!" Gon yelled.

"I can't believe you actually got here…" the silver-haired boy smiled. "I thought you were done for."

"I tracked Leorio's cologne here," Gon replied.

"Cologne?" Killua's eyes widened in disbelief. "That's all? No tracks, no footprints?"

"Yep. Just cologne."

"Jeez…you definitely are weird."

Gon cocked his head at Killua's comment.

A familiar voice cut through the air before Gon could respond. "Everyone, good job," Satotz's voice wafted to them from in front of the two gates. "Phase Two of the exam will occur here, in Biska Forest Park."

Forests. Asterra took a deep breath and inhaled the forest smells and sighed as the smells reminded her of home.

"So on that note, I shall take my leave. Best of luck to all of you." With that Satotz walked off, his steps abnormally large due to his strange strides. The applicants watched him disappear into the woods he had lead the applicants through.

After Satotz was swallowed up by the forest, a giant groaning sound caught the applicants' attention. All of them whirled around to see that the two gates were sliding open.

"Will all applicants who passed the First Phase please enter?" a feminine voice called out.

The applicants looked at each other and then warily entered through the gates to arrive in the courtyard of the mansion. It had the standard courtyard look—a lush lawn, a flower garden near the house, and some tall trees towards the edges—except for the fact that on the lawn there were countertops, gas stoves and cooking spits. It reminded Asterra of a competitive cooking show she had seen on TV once.

Looking further up the pathway that led to the house revealed a woman lounging on a sofa that was set on the porch. Said woman had a tan complexion that suggested she was an outdoorsy type, and her turquoise hair was gathered up in five topknots in a star formation. Shorter hair that could not be pulled back into a topknot framed either side of her face. Her open posture suggested that she wasn't afraid to show off her curvaceous body, which was clad in a bikini top with a mesh shirt over it and daisy duke denim shorts. "Welcome. I'm Menchi, the Second Phase Examiner."

Behind the woman was a figure that starkly contrasted Menchi- the fattest, largest man Asterra had ever seen before that looked like a small mountain made up of human flesh. His dark hair was cut short and triangular eyebrows floated over his small dark eyes. The man wore long dark green pants and a yellow long-sleeve shirt that was too tight to cover his bulging stomach. "And I'm Buhara, the other examiner."

After Buhara spoke a growl akin to that of a large animal echoed though the courtyard. The male examiner put his hands on his swollen stomach.

Menchi looked up at Buhara, a small smile on her face. "Guess you're hungry, huh?"

"I'm starving…" Buhara pined in a way that reminded Asterra of Kikiri.

Menchi turned back to the crowd and stood up. "There you have it, applicants. Since Buhara's so hungry, the Second Phase of the Hunter Exam will be focus on…"

A tense silence filled the air and the applicants unconsciously leaned towards Menchi.

"Cooking!"

"C-Cooking?" The bald man with a red scarf asked.

Huh. Cooking. Now that was a curveball of an exam phase topic, but it would be a change from running through swamps full of man-eating creatures.

"Cooking?!" the wrestler Tonpa had pointed out-Todo-exclaimed. "We're not here to become chefs; we're here to take the Hunter Exam!"

"So you are," Menchi replied. "And I'm your examiner, which means I get to choose the topic for this phase. Your challenge is to produce a dish that will satisfy our palate."

"Why do we have to cook?!" Todo argued back.

Irritation started to build in Asterra at the applicants' reaction towards the topic of the Second Phase. "Arguing with the examiner isn't going to change the topic of the exam," she yelled out loud enough for all of the applicants to hear. "So why don't you just let the phase begin already?"

Todo's angry eyes combed the crowd for the source of the voice; however he failed to find Asterra, as she was towards the back of the group and hidden behind tall people. The wrestler turned forward again.

"I like the enthusiasm over there," Menchi said, then looked directly at Todo, hands on hips. "I'll tell you why we're making you guys cook for the exam. It's because we're Gourmet Hunters."

After a brief silence caused by minds processing the answer, Todo started to guffaw. Other applicants joined in as well, until a good majority of the applicants were laughing.

Asterra couldn't understand why they were laughing—from the way she saw it, the action would only make things harder for themselves. Menchi was one of the examiners who was going to determine who would get to go on to the Third Phase. And by laughing at Menchi the applicants were pissing her off. That would make her less lenient to all applicants, regardless of whether or not they had laughed at her, which would in turn make it harder to pass this phase.

Menchi's eyes narrowed dangerously in irritation and the examiner crossed her arms with a sigh.

When the laughter subsided, Todo asked, "So, Gourmet Hunters. What are we supposed to make?"

Menchi apparently did not feel like dealing with the wrestler and other applicants. She waved a hand and said simply, "Buhara."

The human boulder stepped out from behind the couch Menchi had been lounging on and Asterra felt the ground shake from under her feet. "The required ingredient is pork," he boomed. "You're free to use meat from any species of pig that live in Biska Forest. When you capture one, you must use the facilities here to prepare the pork."

Asterra looked back at what was available more closely: stoves, roasting pits, knives, vegetables, pots, salt and pepper…Well, at least the resources available gave her the ability to make anything that was in her cooking repertoire-roasts and simple soups and stews.

Buhara continued. "And you only pass if we both find it delicious."

"And we're going to evaluate more than just taste," Menchi added coolly. "So don't underestimate the intricacies of cooking, all right? Oh, and fyi—the exam phase ends when Buhara and I have both eaten our fill."

Todo moved his hands like he was batting away a fly. "All right we get it, we get it. Let's just start."

"Then the second phase of the Hunter Exam will begin"—Buhara hit his stomach and a drum-like sound rang out—"now!"

=o=o=o=

"Catch a pig and cook it," Leorio said as he, Gon, Killua, Kurapika and Asterra climbed up a hill. "This is way easier than First Phase."

"Hopefully," Kurapika murmured.

"See any pigs, Kikiri?" Asterra asked.

"Nope," the Dokujo, who had woken a little while back, replied from on top of her head. "Just a bunch of trees."

"Hm, I wonder why. Couldn't possibly have anything to do with the fact that we're in a _forest_ _park_."

"Shut up."

Asterra smirked.

That was when she saw Gon jump and start sliding down the hill on his rear. Killua's eyes widened with glee and he followed suit, whooping as he sped down after the dark-haired boy.

The three older applicants looked at the two boys sliding down the hill then at each other. "Well, it's quicker than walking down _,_ " Asterra shrugged and jumped after them, Kikiri cheering in glee from her shoulder. Then Leorio and Kurapika jumped down as well.

Gon came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, and Killua expected to move so that they wouldn't crash.

Except Gon didn't move.

Killua, who was going too fast to change direction, hollered at Gon to move. But still Gon didn't move, and Killua crashed into Gon's backpack.

"Move it!" Asterra yelled as she neared the two boys, trying in vain to use her hands to change direction. But before Killua could scramble out of the way she crashed into him, her knees digging into his back. Then she winced as Leorio's knees dug into her back, and there was another thud as Kurapika's knees dug into Leorio's back.

"Hey! What was that about, Gon!" Killua fumed.

"Found them," Gon replied.

Asterra looked around. "Found wh-" Her question was cut off as she saw what Gon had found. "Oh."

The five had slid down to a clearing of sorts with pink creatures-pigs. Very big pigs. Very, very big pigs that happened to be chewing on something that normal pigs didn't usually chew on.

"Uh, guys…" A bead of sweat trailed down Leorio's face. "They're chewing on bones."

"You've got to be kidding me…" Kurapika murmured. "They're carnivores?!"

The five met eyes with the pig they were closest to and for a tense, silent moment the six living beings had a staring competition. Then the pig snapped down on its bone with a crunch and roared, the sound released akin to the roar of a steam engine.

The other pigs in the clearing turned towards the pig that had made the sound and started roaring as well. And soon the group could hear the roars of pigs coming from farther and farther and farther away.

"Exactly how many of them are there?" Asterra breathed.

Nobody answered, since they were more focused on the pig that was now glaring at them with a beady, dark-colored eye. The pig took a step forward.

It was time to make an exit.

Leorio yelled and as if on cue the five applicants scrambled up to the feet. In the next moment they were desperately clambering up the grassy hill behind them on all fours, trying to put as much distance between the pigs and themselves. Thanks to the slow acceleration of the pigs the group was able to make it to the top of the hill before the pigs hit their dangerously fast stampeding speed.

Applicants who had been searching for pigs near the grassy hill heard yelling and a thundering sound and they looked to see what it was.

A heard of gigantic pigs had not been on the list of expected sources of the sound.

Applicants screamed and scattered, diving this way and that. The pigs rammed into the slower applicants with their abnormally large snouts that curled up in front of their foreheads, making them go flying towards the back part of the herd.

"These pigs are crazy!" Leorio yelled as he saw the applicants go flying.

"What'd you expect?! This whole exam is crazy!" Kikiri yelled back.

The group of five bolted for the border of the forest, leading the pigs into the main body of the crowd of applicants. With the appearance of new people the pigs began to split away from the herd, each going after a single applicant with a crazed, determined look in its eyes.

Todo was one of the first to fight back, using his strength to lift up a boulder. "Take that!" he roared and he threw the boulder at a charging pig. The object flew through the air, only to break into pieces as it hit the pig's snout.

Gon roared and tried to smack one with his fishing rod, only to be rammed. The boy landed neatly on his feet in front of a tree. He looked up to see the pig charging at him again and jumped to the side to dodge.

There was a thud as the pig crashed into the tree nose-first. But even that didn't seem to faze the pig, which simply turned to Gon with an even more enraged look on its face.

The pig scratched the ground with a foot in preparation to charge again.

That was when a fruit from the tree it had crashed into fell on its forehead.

Gon tensed, expecting the strike to enrage the pig even more.

Instead the pig stiffened and froze, which allowed a cascade of fruit to hit it on the forehead. The pig screwed its eyes shut and cried out in pain.

Gon's eyes widened as a hunch came into his mind. The boy lunged at the pig and brought down the fishing rod onto the pig's forehead. There was a sickening crack of metal against bone, and the pig cried out one final time. It then rolled onto its side, dead.

The action proved that his hunch had been right.

"So the foreheads were their weaknesses?" Killua mused.

"That makes sense," Kurapika said. "The pigs must have evolved large, strong snouts to protect their soft foreheads."

Asterra smiled at the information, then dived to the side to dodge a charge from a pig that had set its sights on her. She rolled into a crouching position as the pig went flying by. _So I need to hit in the forehead, eh?_

The pig, which had apparently realized that Asterra wasn't in its sights anymore, skidded to a halt. Asterra grabbed onto a branch and pulled herself up and cooed, "Here piggy piggy piggy~"

Little pink ears pricked and twitched at the sound and the pig slowly did an about turn, step by step, until its eyes were zeroed in on the tree Asterra was in. The pig scratched the ground once, twice.

"Come on piggy," Asterra continued to coo. "Over here~"

The pig lunged.

Asterra scrambled onto a higher branch and threw her arms around the trunk of the tree in a bear hug. Right hand clamped left wrist like her life depended on it.

The tree trunk quavered as the pig thudded into the lower part of it and Asterra's hurt jaw was bounced against the trunk. The Resca hissed in pain then peeked down at the pig below her, which was currently shaking its head.

Its forehead was right beneath her.

_Gotcha._

Asterra let go of the trunk and dropped down from the branch. Gravity dragged her down and her left foot landed square on the pig's forehead. The creature screwed its eyes shut and cried out in pain as Asterra's full body weight slammed into its weak point but still refused to go down. In response the Resca smoothly dropped to her knees, fist rising then clubbing the vulnerable spot.

That did the trick.

The pig cried out again and started to tip to the right. Asterra snapped back up and jumped to the low branch from before.

There was a thud as Asterra pulled herself onto the branch. The Resca turned to see the pig on its side. After waiting a few moments to make sure that the pig was truly dead, the Resca dropped down to the ground and landed in a crouch.

"Now"—the girl stood up and put a hand on her hip—"to cook you."

=o=o=o=

Menchi and Buhara were astonished by the number of applicants that came streaming in through the mansion gates carrying dead pigs over their heads.

"Wow, they caught a lot," Menchi observed, surprise evident in her voice. She had expected more applicants to be killed or severely injured by the ferocious pigs— known as the Great Stamp—that lived in Biska Forest Park.

Buhara just grinned, drool dripping from the side of his mouth in anticipation.

The applicants scattered, each claiming a work station for their own. Asterra, Kurapika, Gon, Leorio and Killua took cooking stations that were near to each other.

Roasting pits flared to life, and soon the majority of the applicants were roasting the pigs whole. Asterra crinkled her nose at the combined smell of charcoal and roasting meat and looked back at the pig she had carried back, which was so big that its limbs hung over the table and the girth blocked her view.

Kikiri squealed with delight at the sheer size of the pig. "What are you making?" he asked.

"Roast, soup or stew," Asterra replied simply as she debated what to do.

From the size of the pig, roasting it whole didn't seem such a good idea. At Training it had been taught that roasting was easier to do with small animals because the ratio of their surface area (the skin) to their volume (the meat) was smaller. This meant that the inside of the animal could be cooked thoroughly without burning the skin. Getting this perfect balance was difficult with larger animals, and roasting one improperly could result in the consumption of raw meat. And that could lead to a number of health problems that soldiers couldn't afford to worry about.

That left soup or stew. For both all she would have to do was cook chunks of meat and vegetables in a pan, then add water. Asterra looked under the sink portion of the work station to see a huge pot, then glanced at the vegetables she had. She could make either one now, but then she remembered that the exam would end when the both of the examiners were full. That meant that it would be a more logical choice to cook soup since it would be quicker to finish.

"Eh, soup it is." The Resca shrugged her hoodie off, revealing a dark-colored tank top, a completely bandaged left arm, and a right arm bandaged to the middle of her forearm. A hexagonal wooden tag with a symbol carved into it hung from a sturdy black cord around her neck.

With a swish and swift movements from her fingers the apron that had been provided covered her front. Then Asterra took one of the knives started to make incisions that would make it easier to skin the pig.

"Asterra~" Kikiri called to her in a tone of voice that the Resca had learned to associate with the phrase "Can I have some meat?"

The Resca carefully drew a vertical line down the middle of the pig, starting at the throat. The wickedly sharp blade traced the sternum and the center line of the abdomen, slicing through the skin easily. "If you're hungry, you can have some of the organs," she replied, pointing her knife at the abdominal cavity of the pig. "I'm saving the meat for the examiners."

The Dokujo pouted at her words. "Really? This is how you treat me, after eight years of being together?"

She glanced at the Dokujo, eyebrow raised, before making a horizontal incision across the stomach area. "I thought you liked organs. That's the first thing you eat when you catch something."

"Just because it's easier to get at doesn't mean I like it better," Kikiri replied. Asterra stopped prying the muscle apart to look back at him and answer, only to end up looking into pleading doe eyes that made a usually cute-looking Kikiri look unbearably cute.

Asterra grimaced and started pulling off the skin. _Stay strong, Asterra. Stay strong._

Kikiri stayed like that for a while, then gave up and muttered in a voice just loud enough, "Oh yeah, you still owe me something from the butcher shop for getting that guy's name. Guess I'll have to get the most expensive cut of meat to make up for this, then."

Asterra looked to the Dokujo in horror. Kikiri just grinned evilly.

She finished skinning and next started gutting the pig. Kikiri knew that she kept her promises, and knowing him he would use that knowledge to make her buy a cut of meat that completely cleaned out her wallet and made getting home a lot tougher than it needed it to be.

A couple minutes later, she scooted off some of the fatty meat from the abdominal area of the pig towards Kikiri, muttering, "You are a pain in the neck, you know that?"

Kikiri cheered with glee and attacked the meat.

"So, we even now?"

Kikiri nodded and Asterra continued to peel off and dice meat.

=o=o=o=

Less than five minutes later, the first dish was served-a blackened pig on a platter that looked a little too crispy to be appetizing.

Todo unceremoniously put the dish down in front of Menchi and Buhara. "Now eat up and send me to the next phase already."

Asterra looked up from cutting up carrots.

"Oka~y, evaluation time," Menchi said in a bored voice.

Buhara bit into the pig with gusto and a couple chews later held up the "approve" side of the sign he held.

Menchi, on the other hand, didn't even touch the meat and held up the "disapprove" side of the sign. "It's overcooked. The tough texture ruins the flavor of the meat."

"What? You haven't even tried it!" Todo protested.

"It's so obvious I don't need to try it!" Menchi snapped back, accenting each word by waving the sign at Todo.

"Dammit…" Todo growled as he turned his back on the examiners and walked down the stairs.

"Hey Hanzo! You're done already?"

Asterra turned to the source of the voice and saw the bald man in the red scarf—who she assumed was Hanzo—taking another platter with a blackened pig on it to the examiners.

Hanzo put the platter down on the table. "Okay! Tuck in!"

Buhara did, and held up the approve side; Menchi once again didn't take a bite and held up the disapprove side. "Charred on the outside, uncooked inside. Your fire was too strong."

Buhara continued to chow down on the meat regardless and Asterra frowned. Wasn't he afraid of getting food poisoning? What about possible parasites that might remain in the intestines?

Applicants continued to bring charred pigs up to the two examiners and the pattern of Buhara approving and Menchi not approving continued. And with each failing dish Menchi's critiques became louder and harsher. By the time 45 minutes had passed all of her criticism could be heard by every applicant on the lawn.

"No one's passed yet…" Leorio noted, his roasted pig sprawled in front of him on the counter.

"And Menchi hasn't even taken a bite…" Kurapika followed.

"Hey! Can't anybody cook a meal that actually tastes good?" Menchi hollered irritably from her couch while waving her sign around.

Kurapika snapped his fingers. "That's it!"

"What is?" Asterra asked as she checked the soup.

"This phase of the exam is a cooking test, but they're judging us on originality and powers of observation."

"I see…" Leorio smiled, putting a hand to chin. "Then let's see how she likes this!" He put his pig on a platter and stuck a little flag-one often used in restaurants to decorate kid's meals-into the pig's back.

"I don't think that's what Kurapika meant," Asterra said.

"No, it is," Leorio grinned before he set off for the examiner's table. He set down his pig on the table and asked, "How's this?"

Menchi was too grouchy to even give time for Buhara to dig into the pig. Instead she shot up from her seat, put her hands underneath the platter and threw the whole dish up into the air. Both the platter and the pig went flying. "What the fuck is this supposed to be, a kid's meal?!" she screamed at Leorio.

Buhara caught the pig and started tearing into it.

Leorio returned to his work station, hands in pockets and muttering, "Man…"

"All right, finished," Gon sang and Asterra turned to see what Gon had made.

In front of the boy was a whole roasted pig on a platter, except this one had a lei on top of the pig and around it as well. Pink ribbons decorated the pig's ears and tail.

"I don't think that's what he meant either…" Asterra trailed off.

Gon walked up to the examiner table and presented his dish. Not even a second had passed before Menchi tossed it to the side with frightening strength, screaming, "That's basically the same thing!"

Asterra's heart fell as she put a pinch of salt in the pot. If things kept on going like this she was going to have to find a new group to go through this exam with.

Fifteen minutes after Gon had presented his dish, Kurapika said, "Finished," Asterra turned around to see what the blonde had made. For a change, it wasn't a whole pig; instead it was a stack of alternating layers of vegetables and meat patties. _That looks promising,_ she thought.

Kurapika took the plate up to the examiners' table and set it down. "Finally, something that resembles an actual dish…" she muttered, twirling the approve/disapprove sign between her thumb and index finger. She grabbed a fork and took a bite-

-then spat out the food. "Ugh, yuck! What did you do to the pork?!"

"Huh?!" Kurapika's eyes widened.

"Appearance is important, but it's got to taste good first." Menchi took a swig of water and then she showed the disapprove side of the sign yet again. "You're no better than number 403!"

Kurapika choked. Number 403 was Leorio.

Kurapika made his way back to his working station, head sagging. When he was in earshot Leorio laughed, "Too bad!"

"No better than number 403…" Kurapika murmured in a crestfallen voice.

"What happened?" Asterra asked as she tasted the soup.

"I thought that the point of this was to highlight the pork as best as possible," Kurapika explained.

"Sounds reasonable."

"And that the taste didn't matter."

Upon hearing the words Asterra spewed soup. Some droplets landed on Kikiri, who was taking a nap on a corner of the counter.

Kikiri's eyes flashed open. "Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch!" the Dokujo yelped as he danced around the counter.

"What?" Kurapika asked an Asterra that was barely managing to keep herself from laughing. An uncharacteristically wide smile was spread across her face. "What's so funny?"

"Isn't one of the goals of cooking to make meals that taste good?" Asterra asked.

Kurapika opened his mouth to say something, then closed it as no arguments came to mind. He crossed his arms and pursed his lips in annoyance.

"Well, I'm off," Asterra then turned off the stove—the soup had tasted good enough to her—and she put on oven gloves. Then she carried the soup pot up the stairs and set down the pot in front of Menchi and Buhara.

"Huh, this is new," Menchi mused. She opened the lid and checked the contents, then dipped a spoon in and brought it to her mouth.

A second passed, and then Menchi spat out the soup.

"What the hell did you _not_ do to the soup?!" she screamed.

Asterra cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

"This broth is…it's like water! No zest, no taste, no nada! And soups and stews might as well be made of shit if the broth doesn't taste good!" Menchi thrust the sign at her, disapprove side up. Asterra's heart fell and she felt like she had been kicked in the gut.

Then Menchi continued, "Where the hell did you learn how to cook—some military boot camp?"

Asterra choked as another figurative kick to the gut winded her.

Buhara, on the other hand, just picked up the pot and downed the whole soup in one go.

Asterra walked back to her station, hands in apron pockets and shoulders slumped. She had taste-tested it beforehand and thought that it was fine….So why had Menchi said that the broth had no taste?

"Isn't the point of cooking to make stuff that tastes good?" Kurapika smiled as Asterra dejectedly took off her apron and put her hoodie back on.

She glared at him. "Touché, Kurapika. Touché."

=o=o=o=

Fifteen minutes after Asterra had presented her dish to the examiner, the pile of pig skeletons behind Buhara had grown even more until it was a fully-fledged graveyard. The examiner drummed his overly full stomach that was bulging even more now. "Man, I'm stuffed!"

"I'm stuffed too," Menchi said. She uncrossed her legs and stood up from her couch. "Which means the Second Phase is officially finished! The results: 148 failures and 0 passes!"

* * *

**Fun Fact: I wrote this after my high school biology final-dissecting a fetal horse and making a guide for the process. Hence the fact it sounded like Asterra was dissecting the pig.**

**Resca Culture 101**

**During Training, Resca trainees are fed bland-tasting food for so that they're not picky about sustenance when they're in adverse situations. As a result they develop a taste for bland food and cook according to these tastes. So what tastes good to Asterra is actually light in taste or tasteless to a normal person.**


	11. Pork and Eggs, Part II

**Sorry for the late update, guys. Got writer's block on this one so I had to let it sit for a while :p**

* * *

"I'm stuffed too," Menchi said. She uncrossed her legs and stood up from her couch. "Which means that the Second Phase is officially finished! The results: 148 failures and 0 passes!"

Whisks, ladles and pan lids hissed through the air as applicants cried in outrage. The sound of Todo's fist slamming into the work station added to the cacophony. The station held for a moment, then cracks ran across the counter and the structure fell apart into pieces. Water sprung out like a geyser from the area that used to be the sink.

"Like hell I'm accepting this bullshit!" Todo roared.

Menchi shrugged. "Doesn't matter if you do or don't accept it; you've still failed."

"Why?! You asked for pork, so we risked our lives to ge-"

"I said to prepare the pork in a way we both found delicious, and none of you made anything remotely delicious!" Menchi snapped. "Almost all of you just roasted the damn pig whole, which requires zero effort. And just when I thought some people actually tried, they only changed the appearance-no one attempted to emphasize the flavor." Menchi pointed at the crowd accusingly, an extremely pissed look on her face. "I'm positive that none of you took cooking seriously!"

"How are we supposed to make it taste different?" Hanzo muttered with a shrug. "No matter who makes it, pork dishes taste all the same."

Considering Menchi's current mood and her passion about cooking, Hanzo passing that comment was akin to him making a death wish.

Menchi snarled and cleared all the stairs with a jump. Then she stormed over to the bald man with a furious look on her face. Her hands flashed and yanked Hanzo towards her by his scarf. "Just try saying that one more time, baldie!" Menchi snarled into Hanzo's face. "Any more crap from you and I'll shove my arm up your ass and knock your goddamn teeth out!"

Swearing, chewing out, grabbing a person by their collar and screaming in people's faces. Yes, this Menchi person reminded Asterra of the Training instructors back home.

Menchi then shoved Hanzo to the side and turned on the rest of the applicants. "Anybody else feel like passing a comment? Because I don't want any lip from a bunch of amateurs who can't even roast a fucking pig!"

Silence answered her challenge. "Yeah, that's what I thought," Menchi muttered as she let go of Hanzo's scarf. She then sat back onto her couch, her expression calmer than the one she had worn three seconds ago. The smooth and quick transition in emotions made Asterra wonder if Menchi was bipolar.

"So, back to what we were talking about earlier," Menchi continued. "In other words, you people don't have the guts to try anything new."

"Shut up!" Todo roared – apparently one applicant had not been fazed by Menchi's earlier display. He jabbed an index finger aggressively at Menchi. "I'm not trying to become a cook or a gourmet…I'm trying to become a Hunter!"

The applicants around Todo shouted their agreements and the wrestler continued, "My goal is to become a Blacklist Hunter. And I'm not about to let a mere Gourmet Hunter's decision keep me from becoming one!"

The examiner he was talking to couldn't care less at this point. "Too bad you got stuck with a mere Gourmet Hunter as an examiner," Menchi replied in a clearly unsympathetic voice, not even bothering to make eye contact with the wrestler. "Better luck next year?"

At her words Todo turned an unhealthy shade of red. He then lunged at Menchi, growling, "Why you-"

A mini-earthquake shook the ground as Buhara lumbered into Todo's path at a speed Asterra didn't think was possible for a man of his size. The examiner's arm blurred and there was a sharp _crack!_ as the giant's arm smacked away Todo. Whatever profanities the wrestler had been about to say were cut off brutally and Todo went flying through the air as if he had been shot out of a cannon. All the applicants visibly winced as the wrestler hit the red, conical top piece of one of the towers. Todo slid down the piece and fell, landing on the ground with a heavy thud.

Menchi broke the stunned silence that followed. "Buhara, that was my fight. Not yours."

Buhara turned back to the female examiner. "If I hadn't intervened, you would have put him in the hospital."

 _Because knocking him into the tower wouldn't put him in the hospital,_ Asterra thought.

Menchi gave a small laugh. "Yeah, probably." Menchi stood up from her seat and held out her hands to reveal the four kitchen knives she held in them. Her high-heel boots clacked as she descended the stairs towards the applicants. "I'm getting the feeling that you all think Gourmet Hunters aren't actually Hunters because you think we can't fight. Well, let me clarify something. Every Hunter knows some form of martial art-they wouldn't last a day on the job if they didn't. Gourmet Hunters are no different." Menchi started juggling her knives. "We venture into the dens of ferocious beasts to find rare ingredients, and sometimes we have to fight out way out."

The knives continued to glint as they spun in the air around Menchi. "Now that's settled, I'll say this: strength isn't the only thing that makes you a Hunter. You have to have to be willing to experiment and you have to be observant too. Every one of you lacks those two qualities." She caught the four knives in one hand and pointed them at the crowd of applicants. "That alone disqualifies you all from becoming Hunters!"

Applicants looked down, unable to meet Menchi's gaze, and silence filled the courtyard.

Asterra leaned against the working station, gaze down and hands in pockets. The fact that she had failed was finally beginning to sink into her. Memories of the past few days flitted through her mind-Training, the boat ride here, joining up with Gon, Leorio, and Kurapika, the quiz lady, the Kiriko, the running, Hisoka-and she closed her eyes. All of that for naught. Her shoulders sagged.

She knew there were plenty of Resca teens that failed to make it past the third phase of the exam on their first try. Those that were able to just took the next Hunter Exam and hoped for the best. Heck, even her parents had failed the first time around. And she was alive, so she could try it again next year.

Or so one part of her reassured.

Another part of her was pissed. Pissed that she wouldn't be getting her Hunter License this year and not getting to access the information she wanted. Pissed because she would have to wait another fucking year when she had already waited far too long to get answers.

A megaphone voice from above her cut off her train of thoughts. "Even if that is the case, isn't it a little excessive to fail every single applicant?"

The applicants looked up to see a blue blimp painted with the design of a predatory fish came into view. On its side was the sign of the Hunters Association: Two capital Xs touching each other to make a diamond shape in between them, with said diamond shape colored red.

"Hey, it's a Hunter Association blimp!" one applicant yelled.

"Is it someone from the selection committee?" another wondered.

"Hey Gon, look," Killua said and pointed towards the blimp. "There's somebody climbing out the window."

Asterra looked up and to see that Killua's words were accurate: there really was somebody climbing out the window.

"Is he going to jump?" Gon asked.

"I doubt it," Asterra replied.

"I dunno…he looks –" Killua cut off his words as the figure jumped out. "Oh, there he goes."

Asterra choked as the figure fell out the window and plummeted. The other applicants shouted in alarm. There had to be at least 60 feet from the ground to the blimp; there was no way a human could survive that high of a drop.

Seconds later the figure slammed into the path leading up to the porch with the force of a meteorite. A large bang shuddered the earth and applicants nearby the site of impact were knocked off their feet. Shouts erupted as each applicant's arms flashed up to protect their head. Asterra chose to take cover instead; she grabbed Kikiri and dived behind a work station as a mini sandstorm was kicked up and bits of earth shot every which way like projectiles.

The metal her back was pressed against shook as bits of earth flung themselves into the work station. Asterra stayed hunched over, hands over head, knees to chest, and Kikiri in lap, until the shouting and coughing died down and the earth settled. Only then did she dare peek around the corner of the work station.

From the sheer craziness of the stunt, Asterra expected the figure to be some macho young guy who was either drunk or high.

But the sandstorm settled to reveal a figure that was the polar opposite of that image – an old man with a sage-like air. He wore a white male kimono-like robe with blue accents and billowing sleeves that hid his hands. His head was bald except for the white ponytail that erupted from the top of his head. A white beard, tipped with grey, hung over his chest. And two blue studs decorated each unusually long earlobe. His frame looked fragile; Asterra would have thought he was frail if it wasn't for the fact that she had seen him survive a 60 foot drop.

Wooden sandalsclacked against the ground as the man walked towards Menchi, a serious look on his face.

"Who the heck is this geezer?" an applicant muttered as the old man stopped in front of Menchi.

"That man is the Chairman Netero: Chairman of the Committee that is in charge of the Hunter Exam," Menchi replied.

"Well, that's my official title," Netero said. "But I work more behind the scenes and only take action when there's an issue, like now. So, Menchi."

Menchi straightened. "Yes, sir."

"Apparently you failed all of the applicants because you disapproved of their reluctance to try new things."

"No, sir," Menchi replied solemnly. "It wasn't that. I just lost my cool when one of the candidates insulted Gourmet Hunters. I ended up making the exam harder than necessary."

"Ah, so you're aware that this exam was unacceptable."

Menchi nodded. "Yes, sir. When cooking is involved, I lose my cool. I'm unqualified to be an examiner." She looked at Netero in the eye. "I will resign as examiner, so please redo the Second Phase."

"Unfortunately that's easier said than done. It would be difficult to find another examiner on such short notice."

Menchi bowed slightly. "I apologize…"

Netero stroked his beard in thought, then said, "Very well. How about this? I'd like you to continue serving as an examiner. But you must also participate in the new test you propose so that they know what you're asking is not impossible; I'm certain that will help the applicants to accept the results. Is that acceptable?"

There was a slight pause, then Menchi smiled. "Yes, sir. In that case the new challenge will be…" Menchi thought for a moment, then continued, "boiled eggs."

"Boiled eggs?" the applicants echoed questioningly.

"Chairman, can you take us to Mt. Split-in-Half in your airship?" Menchi pointed up at said airship.

Netero looked to the horizon. "Mt. Split-in-Half?" Then he smiled knowingly. "Certainly. I can do that."

=o=o=o=

An hour later, the applicants were on the plateau portion of Mt. Split-in-Half. The airship they had traveled in sat some distance away from a chasm that gave the reddish-brown mountain its name.

Menchi stood by said chasm, which spanned the entire diameter of the plateau, with her hands on her hips. "Now, everyone-look down there."

The applicants looked over the edge carefully, keeping their stance low so that they wouldn't lose their balance easily.

Inside the chasm were thick white strings reminiscent of spider silk woven into a web. Unlike the radial pattern of normal spider webs, though, this nest was made of layers of strands that stretched across the chasm. Some of the vertical strands were connected to each other by horizontal strands of silk.

"What's that?" Asterra asked Menchi.

"That's a spider-eagle's nest," Menchi replied.

"So they make their nests there, huh…" Gon said.

"Nice place," Kikiri muttered.

A slight breeze from the chasm tickled Asterra's face and a moment later a strong gust of wind blew from inside the chasm. Asterra's hair whipped every which way and she pulled her head away from the void. Applicants who didn't have a strong enough stance went stumbling backwards.

"Look below the web closely," Menchi continued as the abnormally large gust stopped.

Asterra peeked over the edge warily and focused on looking past the vertical strands of silk. When she did, she saw little clumps of orbs, gathered up in a net of silk that was tied to one of the vertically running strands.

"Those little balls you see are Spider Eagle eggs," Menchi explained.

"Spider Eagles build their webs in deep ravines to protect their eggs from predators," Netero continued. "This makes the eggs one of the most difficult ingredients to obtain. In fact, they're so difficult to obtain that they're called dream eggs."

"W-wait a minute," Todo stammered. "You don't mean…"

"I~sure~do," Menchi sang and jumped off the edge.

Cries of horror rose from the applicants as they watched Menchi free-fell through the air. The examiner zoomed through the first layer of threads, then she came to a screeching halt as she grabbed onto one of the threads of the second layer, right above a cluster of eggs.

The cries of horror stopped.

"Okay…" Leorio trailed off. "That's that, but even if she does get the eggs how's she supposed to get back up?"

Leorio had a point. Even though there were multiple layers of web, there were no strands that connecting layers to each other. And even if the chasm did have handholds and footholds for climbing, rock climbing while holding an egg and not using any safety ropes was tantamount to suicide.

Before anybody could reply to Leorio's question, though, Menchi let go of the strand she was holding on to. And at that moment, Asterra felt another soft breeze tickle her cheek.

Another cry of horror rose from the applicants as Menchi plummeted down, down, down. But the examiner didn't flail or scream in panic; instead she just grabbed an egg as she passed by an egg cluster and kept on falling. After a few moments she was swallowed up by the fog that covered the lower parts of the chasm.

"Is she trying to kill herself?!" Leorio half-yelled, facepalming.

"No, she's not," Kurapika replied calmly.

The strong gust of wind from before howled once again, blowing several more applicants backwards. Asterra lowered her head until her chin was on the ground, eyes narrowed to slits.

Her eyes didn't stay narrowed for long-they popped wide open when she saw familiar turquoise hair shoot up past her field of vision.

Asterra raised her head to see that Menchi was now floating- _floating-_ above the applicants with a wide smile on her face and a large egg about six inches in height in her hands.

Gon beamed.

"That looks fun," Killua grinned.

"This ravine has updrafts that help the hatched chicks fly up from the web," Netero explained.

The wind shoved Menchi out of the middle of the canyon and towards the side all the applicants were on. The examiner landed neatly next to the chairman. "There," she said, holding out the egg in one hand. "This is the egg you'll be using as the ingredient."

Asterra looked at the egg then looked back down into the chasm where the clusters of eggs hung. So the general flow of this exam was jump, hang, let go, grab an egg, and let the updraft carry an applicant back up. It was a simple enough exam, except for the timing of when to let go. Letting go at the wrong time would result in either falling to one's death or being thrown back up before having a chance to grab an egg.

Talk about high risk, high reward.

"Y-you must be joking," Todo stuttered. "No sane person would jump down there…"

 _Au contraire._ A sane person that knew the updraft mechanism would. Asterra took off her sling bag.

"Wait, you're going?" Kikiri asked.

"Yeah," she replied as she tossed the bag a couple feet away from her.

"Are you crazy? Asterra, you're jumping into a canyon for crying out loud! You could die!"

Asterra flinched as images of her falling, splattering against a rocky floor and ending up as a bloody, unrecognizable mess flashed in her mind.

Yes, she could die if she went.

But if she stayed, she wouldn't pass. If she didn't pass this phase, she'd have to wait another year to become an independent adult and get that Hunter License. And she didn't know if she had the patience for that.

"Come on, let's play it safe," Kikiri urged. "Wait 'til next-"

"No."

"What?"

"If taking a swan dive off some chasm is what it takes to pass this thing, I'll do it-I'm not wasting this second chance. Besides, I know what I'm doing." She patted Kikiri on the head. "I'll come back. Now stay here and make sure nobody takes my stuff, okay?"

Kikiri nodded reluctantly, a concerned look in his eyes.

Asterra smiled at the Dokujo and stood up to walk over to the cliff where the others had gathered. Each step made her heart beat faster and harder, and she felt the familiar thrill of adrenaline rush through her body.

"Ready?" Gon mouthed as the five of them met eyes. The other four nodded.

"Then let's go!" Gon shouted and the five of them leaped off. For a moment they seemed to be suspended in midair by invisible strings, but then the strings snapped as gravity tightened its hold on them and hurled them downwards.

The other applicants saw the five of them jump, and one by one they followed suit.

"Wait a minute!" Menchi yelled. "I haven't finished explaining everything!"

The applicants ignored the examiner's words and the air was filled with the whistling sound of falling bodies. Each body passed through the first layer of strings, and moments later all the applicants that had jumped were hanging onto the strands of a single web.

Asterra looked down to look for the closest cluster of eggs and found one close to the expected path of her fall. If she leaned forward to reach it while falling, she would be able to grab an egg on the edge without any problems.

"All right, I'm off!" an applicant's voice said. Asterra turned toward the source of the voice to see a man with light brown hair let go of a silk strand and plummet. He grabbed an egg as he fell past a cluster and continued to plummet.

"Hey, let's go too!" Leorio yelled.

"No, let's not."

"What?" Leorio turned to the Resca who had answered him. "Why?"

Killua answered for her. "Because there's no wind."

Leorio looked down, trying to spot the applicant that had just fallen.

"As Killua said, there isn't always an updraft," Kurapika said.

As if to prove Kurapika's point a chilling scream shot up from the empty space below the applicants. Apparently the applicant had realized that no updraft was coming to save him.

Nobody said anything as the screams died away.

"So…when's the next updraft going to blow?" Leorio asked nervously.

"Wait," Gon said and closed his eyes as if listening intently.

 _So you noticed too, huh?_ Asterra thought as she looked down and exhaled. Both of the previous updrafts had been preceded by a slight, tickling breeze. That had to be the telltale sign of the updraft. If she let go when she felt that breeze, she would have enough time to grab an egg and be pushed back up to the surface. _So all we have to do is wait._ Just wa-

An ugly snapping sound reached her ears and Asterra felt herself fall for a moment before being jerked to a stop.

"What? What was that?!" Leorio yelped.

Asterra's head snapped towards the source of the sound-the string that was adhered to the chasm wall-and her eyes widened. _Shit._ "The string's fraying!"

"The web can't hold us all!" Kurapika yelled.

_**Find a way out.** _

Survival mode kicked in and Asterra's mind whirred. If the string snapped, they would go flying into the opposite wall. If she could find appropriate handholds and footholds she could climb out of this mess.

Blood started to pound in her ears like war drums signaling a march. Adrenaline sent her senses into overdrive. Borders between shadows and light became crisper; possible footholds and handholds seemed to pop out of the cliff face as if they were begging to be noticed.

"Gon?" Killua turned his head to the left nonchalantly. "Can we go yet?"

Gon shook his head.

"You're calm," Asterra remarked to Killua, eyes on the wall.

"I've been through worse," Killua replied. "You sound pretty calm yourself."

"Panicking won't help the updraft come quicker." _Come on, come on,_ she thought as her eyes scrolled over the canyon wall. Her eyes skimmed upward and made an imaginary path out of footholds and handholds that, worst case scenario, she could take to get back to the surface.

The string snapped again, and the rational side of some of the applicants snapped with it.

"Like hell we can wait for the wind!" one shouted and let go. Other applicants started letting go and dropping to the ground as well.

"They're dead," Killua muttered and soon the air was filled with the chilling screams once more.

Another falling feeling. Another jerking motion bringing her to a stop. Asterra fixed her grip and pressed her lips into a thin line.

"It's gonna snap!" Leorio yelled.

Silence.

Then Asterra felt a tickling breeze on her cheek and at the same time Gon yelled, "Now!"

The five applicants let go of the thread and plummeted. The other applicants let go as well.

The wind whistled in Asterra's ears and the details of the canyon wall were smoothed over. The cluster of eggs she had spotted neared and she reached out with her hands. In the brief moment that she passed the cluster, she managed to wrap her hands around an egg that was at the edge of the cluster. Pulling it loose required no extra effort; gravity did the work for her.

The applicants continued to plummet after passing the egg clusters. A few moments of falling and Asterra felt droplets of water stick to her face as she passed the layer of fog that she had seen. _Any time now,_ she thought. _Any time now would be great._

As soon as that thought passed through her head she felt something push against her chest, something that fought gravity. For a brief moment she hovered in the air and could see every crack in the weathered canyon wall. But then the cracks melted together into a solid red-brown again and she was shooting up, up, up. Shouts from the applicants barely reached her ears over the whistling of the wind. Then red-brown of rock change to the blue of the sky and then the applicants were hovering over the chasm, over the applicants that had been too afraid to jump.

It was at that moment that Asterra realized she was laughing uncontrollably. Gon and Killua were laughing too, while a number of the other applicants just grinned.

"How can you laugh at a time like this," Kurapika murmured as he shook his head, egg in hands.

Netero chuckled at the sight. Menchi smiled as well, then looked backwards at the applicants that hadn't moved. "And as for the rest of you…I guess you quit."

"Don't be too hard on them," Netero said. "It takes courage to concede, too."

=o=o=o=

Asterra bit into the boiled spider-eagle egg, her teeth cutting through the whites and into the still-slightly-runny yolk. The taste of heaven spread across her tongue and made her realize exactly how much time had passed since having that piece of jerky for a meager lunch. It also made her appreciate the size of the egg.

"I can see why they're called dream eggs," Kurapika said before eagerly taking another bite. Leorio, Gon and Killua just chewed with gusto, satisfied looks on their faces.

Asterra felt Kikiri scratching on her leg and she tore off a piece of the egg for the Dokujo. Kikiri snapped up the egg from her palm and licked his lips when he was finished.

"This is a damn good egg," Hanzo said around a mouthful. "I wish they sold them in stores."

Menchi swallowed. "You wouldn't think they were delicious if you ate them every day."

The applicants that hadn't jumped off looked on the egg-eating applicants, a wishful look on their faces.

"Hey, Todo-san," Gon called. Todo looked down to see the boy in green holding out his egg to him. "Would you like a bite?"

Todo accepted the egg from Gon. He took a bite out of the egg, then his eyes widened as if he'd seen the light. "It's delicious…"

Menchi licked her fingers clean and walked over to the wrestler. "It's good, isn't it? Now you know the joy of finding and eating something delicious." Menchi pointed a thumb at herself. "We Gourmet Hunters risk our lives on a daily basis for that joy."

Todo faced Menchi. "I apologize for my behavior earlier." He bowed. "I was wrong to look down on the Gourmet Hunters."

Menchi grinned. "Apology accepted."

Todo straightened again. "I was completely outdone this year. But I'll be back again next year!"

Gon smiled at the man's words.

=o=o=o=

Fifteen minutes later everybody had finished eating and a second blimp had arrived on the plateau. Those who had failed the second phase were directed to this second blimp, while those who passed were told to file into the blimp that had flown them to the plateau earlier in the day.

Both blimps then took to the sky. One of them turned to start heading back to Zaban City; the other sped off in the opposite direction towards the site of the next exam phase.

* * *

**Thanks for reading to the end. Follows, favs and reviews are appreciated, even if the reviews are short.**

**See you in the next chapter :)**

**-Rhyss**


	12. Aboard the Blimp, Part I

**I'm back!**

**A little something before I start: I recently made a deviantArt account and I've posted pictures of Asterra there. If you want to see them my dA account is Turrean. There's also an address on my profile page.**

**Now, for what you guys came for. Enjoy the chapter :)**

* * *

The 42 applicants who remained were now gathered in an oval room that was a little too small to fit them all. Not much of the hardwood floor was visible as shoes and boots of all kinds covered it, and some people were almost pressed into the large glass windows that doubled as glass walls.

"Allow me to introduce myself formally," Netero started as the last applicants squeezed into the room. "I am Netero, Chairman of this year's Hunter Exam Committee."

Standing next to him was the green-pea-human from before – the one who had given the applicants their number tags. He introduced himself next in a voice cheerier than Netero's. "And I am his secretary, Beans."

"Originally I planned to make my appearance during the exam's final phase; but I decided to make an early appearance to sort out that little mishap that occurred during the second phase. Now that I am here, though…" the old man narrowed his eyes and looked around at the remaining applicants, then smiled. "I think I'll stick around for the rest of the trip, since I'm loving this tension in the air."

Said tension was probably thicker and more concentrated than usual, considering the fact that they were stuffed into this room that was slightly too small to fit a group of its size.

"We are scheduled to arrive at our destination tomorrow morning at 8 AM," Beans informed the applicants. "Until then, you are free to do as you please. You'll find dinner waiting in the dining hall; you are also welcome to rest in the rooms provided."

A glance at the clock on the wall revealed it was currently 9 PM, which meant that they had eleven hours of free time.

"Hey, Gon!" Killua turned to the dark-haired boy. "Let's explore the airship!"

"Yeah!" Gon nodded.

Leorio looked towards the two younger applicants running out the door. "How do those two have so much energy?" he muttered, then yawned. "I'm hitting the sack after this."

"I think I will too," Kurapika agreed. "Though I am curious about something."

"What?" Kikiri asked.

"Exactly how many more phases are there to this exam?"

Now that was a very good question.

Leorio looked up at the ceiling, hands in pockets. "Huh; nobody ever mentioned that, did they?"

"On average, there are five to six phases."

It was a voice Asterra had hoped she wouldn't hear for the rest of the exam. The three of them turned around to see a familiar applicant in a blue tunic – Tonpa.

"Which means we still have three or four to go…" Leorio said.

Kurapika sighed. "All the more reason to rest now."

"Resting is fine, but you guys should probably be careful," Tonpa warned.

Asterra cocked her head at the man's words.

"The secretary only told us when we'll arrive at our destination. It's possible that the third exam phase could take place on this airship, and it doesn't necessarily mean that we'll be contacted at eight in the morning."

"Seriously?" Leorio asked incredulously.

"For all you know, you could end up waking up to find out that the exam phase has already ended. So if you want to make it to the next phase, you probably shouldn't let your guard down while you're on this airship."

"What the hell…" Leorio grumbled. "Well, thanks for the good advice."

"We shall bear that in mind," Kurapika added.

"Let's all do our best," Tonpa said in that suspiciously sincere tone of his before passing by them to exit the now empty room.

The three of them exited the room and Asterra turned to the left.

"Hey, where're you going?" Leorio asked. He pointed at the sign on the wall of the corridor to the right that said "Sleeping Rooms This Way." "Rooms are this way."

"I'm going to go look at that map," Asterra replied, referring to the map she had seen while traveling down the corridor that connected that small room to the embarkation point.

The young man waved his hand. "Suit yourself," he yawned, then muttered, "You and your map obsession." With that, he and Kurapika walked off.

A yawning sound entered her ear and Kikiri said, "I'm going to bed."

"Night," she replied simply as she walked back to the map she had found earlier. There was the sound of a zipper being opened and the backpack became slightly heavier. Both told her that Kikiri had curled up on the folded blanket at the bottom of her bag.

It didn't take too long to get back to the map she had spotted before. She traced the drawn hallways with her finger and started muttering to herself. Twenty minutes later the map was memorized – it wasn't a very big map to start with and the pattern of the paths were simple. She took a step back and used her newfound knowledge to make her way to the rooms that had been set aside for applicants who wanted to rest.

=o=o=o=

"Look Gon, look!" Killua called animatedly to Gon, standing so close to the window that it looked like his nose was going to make a mark against the glass. His curiosity piqued, Gon ran over to the window to see what Killua was getting so excited about, then gasped at the view.

The blimp was flying over a sprawling city lit up by thousands upon thousands of differently colored lights. They outlined streets, houses, buildings, billboards, and train tracks, each one shining with all its might to help the city distinguish itself from the dark of the night. "Whoa!" he exclaimed. The boy found himself wishing for a camera so he could take a picture of this view and send the photo to Aunt Mito. "It looks like the ground's covered in jewels!"

Killua nodded eagerly, awe making his normally subdued blue eyes glitter as brightly as the city lights below them.

The two spent another couple of moments admiring the view before Gon asked, "Hey Killua, I was wondering – how are your parents?"

Killua's eyes dimmed a little at Gon's question. "They're alive," the silver-haired boy replied vaguely in the cool voice he usually used. "Probably."

Probably? Did they do something dangerous, then? "What do they do?"

"They're assassins," Killua said nonchalantly.

Gon turned to the silver-haired boy, eyes slightly widened. "What, both of them?"

Killua looked at Gon for a moment then burst out laughing. "That's your first reaction? You really are a riot!"

Gon cocked his head at the boy's laughter. That question wasn't supposed to be funny; it was a serious question that had just popped up into his head. Then again, it wasn't the first time Killua had laughed at Gon when he wasn't trying to be funny.

"You're the first person who's ever responded like that," Killua replied with a big smile on his face. He then started dragging a nearby bench closer to the window sill.

"Well, you're telling the truth, aren't you?" Gon asked.

"What makes you think that?" Killua sat down on the bench and motioned for Gon to sit down as well.

Gon shrugged as he sat down. "Gut feeling."

"That's weird," Killua sighed and put his head on the window sill. "People usually say it's hard to tell if I'm serious or not."

"Really?"

Killua didn't say anything for a couple of moments; he just started out the window. Then he straightened and started speaking in a more somber tone. "My parents aren't the only ones that are assassins; everybody in my family is one because it's the family business. And my parents have really high hopes for me as an assassin too…" Killua kept his eyes on the view in front of him, his eyes drinking in every detail he could see. "But I don't like that. I mean, who wants to have their life planned out for them?"

The silver-haired boy straightened and turned his head towards Gon. "So I told them that I wanted to decide my own future. Guess what happened?"

"What?" Gon asked.

"Everyone in my family went crazy! Mom started bawling, saying that I shouldn't say such things because I had the potential to be an elite assassin." He threw his arms up in the air. "You'd think that they'd support their kid no matter what, but no~"

Gon laughed at Killua's facial expression and animated gestures.

"I mean, it's natural that their kid would want to get out! The least they could do is back me up." Killua leaned back and continued in a tone children used to describe their school day, "So we ended up fighting. I stabbed Mom in the face and my brother in the side, then ran away from home."

Gon blinked at Killua's tone of voice that contrasted sharply with his words.

"I'm sure they're out for blood now," Killua grinned, seemingly unconcerned. "But if they find me I swear I'll send them packing. And when I become a Hunter the first thing I'm going to do is turn by family into the authorities. I'm sure they're worth some hefty bounties…"

Gon laughed again, not sure whether the silver-haired boy was joking or not.

That was when both of them felt a breeze brush over the back of their necks - the breeze that came when something rushed by very, very quickly. The two boys shot up from their seats and looked to the left where…something had come from. But there was nothing there.

"Is something the matter?"

Gon and Killua turned towards the sound of the voice to see Netero walking towards them from the other direction, his wooden sandals clacking against the floor.

"Netero-san," Gon started and pointed in the direction from where that something had dashed from. "Did you see anybody coming from that side?"

Netero shook his head. "No, I did not."

Killua narrowed his eyes. He couldn't feel anybody else's presence nearby; that person who rushed behind them just now had to be this geezer. So he said, "You're pretty fast for an old man."

"What, that little trick?" Netero grinned, his answer a confession that admitted he was indeed the one who had rushed past them. "I barely moved."

Killua continued to look at the old man with wary eyes for a few moments as if sizing him up. Then he asked bluntly, "What do you want? You don't have to do anything until the last exam phase, right?"

"No need to be so unkind," Netero replied. "I was bored so I was looking for some companions."

Killua's expression didn't change one bit.

The old man's expression softened. "By the way, I meant to ask the both of you…any thoughts on your first attempt at the Hunter Examination?"

Gon nodded enthusiastically, a smile on his face. "It's fun! I'm so glad there haven't been any of the written exams I was dreading!"

Killua, on the other hand, replied, "I'm a bit disappointed; I thought this thing was going to be more difficult. The next phase is going to be more entertaining, right?"

Netero shrugged. "Well, now…I'm not in charge of the third phase so I wouldn't know."

The reply made irritation creep into Killua's voice. "Let's go, Gon!" he said, turning on his heel and starting to walk off.

"Now wait a moment," Netero called, making Killua stop and Gon turn towards the old man. "Would you care to play a game with me?"

"A game?" Gon echoed, his curiosity piqued.

Netero nodded. "If you're able to beat me at it, I shall give you Hunter Licenses!"

"Really?!" Gon's eyes shined with excitement and his voice was eager. "I'll play!"

Killua looked back at the old man warily. Win against this old man and get a Hunter License? That sounded too easy and too good to be true. What trick did this geezer have up his sleeve?

"How about it, eh?" Netero cocked his head at the silver-haired boy.

It didn't sound dangerous, and it sounded like something he could get out of if it turned ugly. Killua turned around to face Netero and replied cautiously, "All right then. Count me in."

"Excellent!" Netero beamed and started to walk. "Then follow me."

=o=o=o=

Netero led Gon and Killua to a fairly large and circular room that looked like it was meant to be used as a gym. The floors were hardwood, every inch of the wall (save for the round windows) was covered by thick blue padding, and the clock and lights were protected by a sturdy-looking clear material.

"I'll go over the rules of the game," Netero, who had taken off his white top to reveal that he was wearing a black tank top underneath, said as he bounced a yellow ball the size of a soccer ball against the floor. A thick black stripe ran across its middle. "If you can take this ball from me, before this airship reaches the destination, you win."

Gon and Killua glanced at the clock. It was nearly 11 PM.

"I believe that we're scheduled for an 8 AM arrival." Netero spun the ball on his finger. "Which gives you nine hours. You're free to attack me in any way you want; I won't touch you."

Gon frowned. "That's too easy; you can't call that a game."

"Come, come; humor an old man." Netero bounced the ball on his finger.

Killua looked at the ball intently. "We just have to take the ball, right?"

Netero nodded.

"Then I'll go first." The boy's calm tone hid the irritation that stemmed from the feeling that he was being underestimated by this old man. He began to walk counterclockwise around the circular room. Gon blinked, then cocked his head upon realizing the fact that Killua's steps weren't making any sound despite being on a hardwood floor.

Netero followed the boy's movements with narrowed eyes, wondering what he was going to do.

Killua reached the one-fourth mark of the room's circumference, which was when things became strange. Upon taking another step one Killua became two – one that kept on going and one that trailed behind. Then the latter image left behind a Killua, and more and more Killuas began to appear as a whole chain of afterimages trailed behind the lead Killua.

Gon's eyes widened with amazement as Netero became surrounded by a wall of Killua afterimages.

Netero viewed the scene unfazed. He had seen this technique before; it was one that assassins liked to use called Rhythm Echo. The technique required the user to walk and move his body to make a certain rhythm. That rhythm allowed the user to create afterimages of himself and confuse the unfortunate target.

It was, by no means, a technique that any boy could use easily.

Killua took another step, then pivoted and lunged at the ball. Netero saw the motion from the corner of his eye and leaned back. A white and blue blur zoomed past his chest.

The boy barely made a sound as he landed on one sneakered foot and pivoted again. Lunging steps took Killua's body forward and his arms zoomed through the air, reaching for the ball in Netero's hand. Netero simply mirrored Killua and took steps back, keeping the ball just out of the boy's reach using various methods, such as rolling the ball across his shoulders, throwing it up in the air then catching, and bouncing the ball against the wall.

Gon looked on in amazement at the two who were almost waltzing around the room. It looked like they were having fun, and the excitement that was building up within him made his legs jumpy and itchy for action.

Killua came to a stop and clearly irritated eyes looked back at the man who was far too agile for someone his age.

Netero landed smoothly on his feet and the ball landed on his finger. "What? Is that it?" He threw the ball up in the air, caught it on his face near the bridge of his nose, and balanced it.

Killua gritted his teeth and pivoted into a lunge again. A few steps covered the distance between him and Netero and then the boy dropped down in front of the old man. His leg swung into a full-strength sweeping kick. Shin connected to shin with a crack that made Gon wince.

Killua grinned triumphantly at Netero, waiting for the old man to come toppling down with cries of pain. The assassin had kicked him with enough force to shatter bone, after all. But the old man didn't come toppling down; instead pain flooded Killua's own shin and the grin on his face morphed into a grimace. "Ow!" he yelped and shot up, jumping around on his unhurt leg while cradling his hurt shin.

What was that old man's leg made of?! Titanium?

"Killua!" Gon yelled, hand raised. "Let's switch!"

He hadn't gotten the ball yet, but it wasn't like he was going to be able to do anything with his shin like this. So Killua hopped over to Gon on one foot and high-fived him. The dark-haired boy then quickly did some stretching exercises to make himself limber, then a serious look crossed his face.

Netero stood on one foot, ball balanced on top of his head, wondering what this boy was capable of doing. He had a rather honest face that made Netero think that the boy would just use simple tactics if not face him straight on.

Gon took a step towards Netero and rocketed forward. The old man just smirked. He had to admit that the boy had an impressive first step, but from the looks of it he wasn't going to do much else.

Which made it all the more surprising when Gon suddenly flitted out of sight and appeared above him. Netero's eyes widened at the sight, delaying his reaction for a moment. But then Gon's face contorted in pain as the back of his head banged against the reinforced plastic that protected the lights. Netero leaped back and the boy fell to the floor with a thud. "Ow ow ow!" Gon hissed, curling up into a ball with his hands on the back of his head.

"You idiot!" Killua hollered as Gon rolled around on the ground. "We know you can jump really high, so control your strength! You missed a one in a million chance!" Killua pointed angrily at Netero. "The old man had his guard down!"

Gon got back up, one hand still on the back of his head. "Guess I messed up there, huh," he murmured, though the small smile on his face and his tone of voice conveyed the fact that he didn't seem particularly disappointed about the outcome.

So this boy did have a working brain, then. Netero was glad that he did; it meant boredom would not come knocking at his door for a couple of hours.

The thought made a smile light up the Chairman's face.

* * *

**Thanks for reading to the end :D**

**-Rhyss**


	13. Aboard the Blimp, Part II

By the time two hours of being danced around by Netero had passed, Gon and Killua were perspiring waterfalls and radiating as much heat as the sun. Yet the two still showed no signs of giving up as each took turns doggedly following the old man.

"You boys aren't getting anywhere," Netero said smugly as he bounced the ball against the floor. "Why don't both of you attack me simultaneously?"

Killua's eyes flashed dangerously at Netero's words. "Why you—"

"All right then!" Gon said in a voice that wasn't tinged with borderline fury like Killua's. The dark-haired boy lunged at Netero. "I'll get you this t—" His words were cut off as Netero vaulting over his head made his face smack into the ground.

Gon recovered quickly, pulling his face up with a growl. Then the two boys attacked him simultaneously—one using punches and kicks to force Netero into a position that would make the old man an easy target and the other trying to take advantage of that momentary weakness. But despite their best efforts Netero continued to dance around their attacks—at one point he avoided their attacks in a way that made them bang their heads against each other's—and the two failed to even touch the ball.

Gon gritted his teeth as he skidded to a stop on his feet. After chasing after the old man for two hours it was becoming apparent that he and Killua couldn't win fairly. So while Killua distracted the old man he bent down to loosen the laces on his boots slightly. Then he lunged at Netero again.

The old man shifted his body to turn towards the lunging boy. "Your attacks are getting boring," he smirked.

Gon leaped up and kicked. Netero leaned back far enough to avoid the kick that was coming for his face. But then he saw the boot start to slip off the boy's foot and a moment later he felt a force smack him in the nose.

The old man reeled at the unexpected blow—a kick with a range that had been increased by the boy's boot. And then he heard a small _swoosh_ as the assassin boy seemed to materialize behind him to take advantage of Netero's moment of surprise.

There was another _swoosh_ and then a thud as Killua landed a solid kick to the back of Netero's head that sent the old man rocketing forward. The yellow ball fell out of his hand.

"Chance!" Killua grinned and reached for the ball.

"I don't think so~" Netero smirked as if Killua's kick had not affected him at all and tipped his body forward. His leg curled backwards and it managed to kick the ball out of Killua's reach. The boy's face fell as the distance between him and the ball increased.

Netero lunged for the ball, but just as his fingertips were about to brush it a blur of green struck it. Netero recognized the green blur—Gon's boot—that sent the ball spiraling in another direction.

"You and you little tricks!" Netero growled but Killua and Gon didn't care. They just sped right past him, hands reaching for the ball and the status of Hunter that it represented.

Netero's eyes narrowed dangerously as he landed on one foot. Said foot dug into the floor, gathering its strength, and a moment later it propelled Netero toward the ball. Gon and Killua cried out in surprise as the old man zipped through the space between them with the speed of a bullet train and the gust the old man kicked up sent them flying.

Both boys landed on their backs with a thud and winced. They then looked up to see Netero standing up again, ball in hand.

"I'll give you an A for effort," the old man smiled.

Gon simply laughed. "Wow! How did you do that, Netero-san?"

Killua, on the other hand, didn't have such a lighthearted response to the man's unexpected speed; it was apparent from the way his face was contorted in a look of absolute fury.

The silver-haired boy's nose crinkled as he smelled something smoking and he looked to his left. The source of the smell turned out to be a foot-sized char mark on the hardwood floor. White tendrils of smoke snaked up from the blackened area.

The sight confirmed Killua's suspicions about how hopeless this was, and the assassin didn't keep the thought to himself. He turned to Netero, the look of fury still on his face, then took a deep breath to clear the expression. "Forget it…" he muttered pushed on one knee to help himself stand up. Then he said in a louder voice "I give up!" and walked back to grab his t-shirt.

Gon looked at the boy walking over to the exit. "Why? We still have time," the dark-haired boy pointed at the clock that read 2:20. "And just now, we came really close."

"Jeez, you really have no clue, do you?" Killua sighed as he draped his t-shirt over one shoulder. "That old man's barely used his right hand and left leg."

Gon's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as he exclaimed, "What?!"

"And despite that we're still powerless against him," Killua continued in a defeated tone. "We could chase him around for a year and still not get the ball."

"Oh, you figured it out?" Netero asked. "And here I thought I'd fooled you."

Killua looked back into the room from the hallway and half-laughed. "You know, you really piss me off, old man," he said bluntly. "Come on Gon, let's go."

"Oh, I'm gonna play a little longer," Gon replied.

Killua backpedaled back into the gym at the dark-haired boy's words. "What?! Didn't you hear what I said?!" he shouted in Gon's face. "It's useless! U-s-e-l-e-s-s! You won't ever be able to take the ball away from him!"

"Yeah, I know," Gon replied between breaths. "But I don't care about the ball anymore."

Killua blinked. "Huh?"

"We've only used up half of the time limit. I'll use the time left to make Netero-san use his right hand before time runs out."

Killua looked at Gon, confusion and disbelief written all over his face. "Oh…ok then…." He trailed off. "Good luck. I'm getting some sleep." With that Killua walked out the door and shut it behind him.

There was a brief moment of silence which was then broken by Gon asking, "Netero-san, how did Killua do that thing where he walked slowly and it looked like there were a bunch of Killuas?"

"That technique is used for those engaged in underground work," Netero replied flatly with his eyes narrowed. "There is no need for you to learn it. In fact, you're better off not learning it."

"But it's still an amazing technique, right?"

Netero tossed the ball up into the air and caught it in the palm of his hand. "Well, it does require an incredible amount of difficult training to learn."

Gon turned back to the closed doors. "Killua's really something!"

There was another moment of silence, then Gon's arm swiped toward the ball just as it was about to be tossed up into the air again. The old man quickly took the ball and raised it above his head.

"As if that would work," Netero chided with narrowed eyes.

=o=o=o=

Killua walked down the hallway with the large windows, hands in pockets and shirtless. The excessively air-conditioned air did wonders for his overheated body but did nothing for the burning anger that simmered inside him.

Who did that geezer think he was? Who was he to look down on Killua, to belittle him like that? Then again, was that geezer really a geezer? Because during that stupid game he had moved with the agility of an insanely fit twenty year-old.

Killua looked down, tracing the lines the borders of tiles made on the floor. He hadn't wanted to quit the game, but he had felt himself come within an inch of snapping from the amount of the black thoughts that had filled him. If he had continued to play he certainly would have turned to his skills to kill the old man and make him drop the ball. So he had decided to remove himself from the situation before anything happened.

Why though? Why had he not wanted to kill the geezer? He had spent his whole life assassinating people and had suffered no sleepless nights over it, so it wasn't like he had any qualms about killing.

He felt his shoulder bump into human flesh but was too pissed off and preoccupied at the same time to even feel like apologizing.

"Hey, kid!" the tall male applicant Killua had bumped into called.

Killua didn't respond as his mind next thought back to Gon's reaction. Try to get the geezer to use his right hand by the end of the night? What was the point in that? The geezer had said that in order to get the status of Hunter they had to take the ball; anything less wouldn't yield any benefits and was therefore meaningless.

"You bump into us, and then ignore us?" another applicant in blue asked belligerently.

The boy kept on walking down the hall.

"You little shit," they both snarled and rushed him from behind.

Killua heard two steps of loud footsteps as clearly as he could hear the humming of the engine and sighed. Since when had bumping into people become a crime big enough to be beat up over? Not that these two would be difficult to deal with. In fact, it would have been easy to put them down gently—a soft kick to the gut for each of them would have been more than enough to make them grovel on the floor in pain. That would have also been the more "correct" way to deal with it.

But Killua wasn't in the mood to deal with them "correctly."

He took a deep breath and focused on the hallways around him. He couldn't detect any presences nearby, which meant nobody would see or hear two applicants dying.

He flexed his fingers as the two came within three feet of him.

=o=o=o=

Her body crying for water woke Asterra up.

Her eyes opened, although the scenery didn't look too different after doing so. All that differentiated the room from the darkness closed eyes brought was the faint amount of light that snuck through the edges of the door in front of her.

Asterra sat up carefully so she wouldn't wake up a Kikiri who was curled up next to her and then yawned. Several blinks later her eyes adjusted enough to see the faint outlines of applicants laying on the ground all around her. The soft breathing of people asleep that filled the air reminded her of the bunkhouse back at Training.

She looked to the side. Leorio and Kurapika were still fast asleep against the wall, their blankets wrapped around them. So it was probably still early in the morning.

Asterra stepped around Kikiri and crawled over to where all their luggage was piled up. After a few moments of feeling around for her backpack she managed to find it and dig out the canteen she had brought. The Resca unscrewed the cap, brought it to her lips and tipped it. Much to her annoyance, nothing came out.

She swore softly and got up, canteen in hand. _Maybe the dining hall's still open._

The girl rose and tiptoed over applicants, almost tripping over one idiot that had situated himself right in front of the damn door. She slid the door open and stepped through, then closed it quietly.

The bright lights of the hallway temporarily blinded her and she covered her eyes. "All right, now let's see…dining room, dining room," she muttered drowsily to herself as her eyes adjusted, trying to visualize the map of the blimp she had memorized earlier. If she remembered correctly, the dining room was on the opposite side of the ship and it could be reached by following the hallway that ran the circumference of the blimp. A look to the left revealed a hallway with large windows—that had to be the outer hallway—and she walked towards it.

Before she could take a step into the outer hallway, though, concentrated malice slapped her in the face.

The Resca, now very much awake, froze in her tracks as the malice continued to wash over her like a frigid current. It wasn't directed towards her—it was more like a small rivulet of it had managed to deviate from the main river and make its way over here—but it still made her insides go cold. She pressed her back against the wall and her grip on the canteen tightened. _Hisoka?_ No. This malice wasn't as bad as his and it had a different feel. There was a palpable irritation-bordering-on-fury woven into this malice, a quality that Hisoka's malice had lacked.

That was when two gurgling sounds reached her ears, and it was followed by two thuds and the unmistakable smell of freshly spilt blood.

 _Danger._ She made herself go very, very still and quieted her breath. She couldn't hear any footsteps coming towards her…no, she couldn't hear any footsteps, period. She frowned. That couldn't be right. Even if the killer had walked off in the other direction, she would have heard footsteps fade away, not just disappear altogether.

"Hey, you're that girl from earlier."

The voice almost made Asterra jump high enough to rip a hole through the ceiling. Heart in mouth, her head snapped down to see who the owner of the voice was.

Silver hair, pale skin, subdued blue eyes. She recognized the boy; he was the one that hung around Gon a lot—Killua. Where the hell had he popped out from?

"Did I scare you?" The boy's voice sounded innocent but it bordered on a childish smirk.

"You surprised me," she replied stiffly.

Killua waved his hand. "Same difference."

Asterra opened her mouth to change the subject but an ear-splitting shriek drowned out her first words. Her head snapped toward the sound.

"Guess somebody found them," Killua murmured.

The Resca looked down at the boy. _Found them?_ That suggested that Killua had seen the bodies. But if that was the case, why hadn't she heard him scream or shout for help? Who wouldn't do anything after seeing dead people? Somebody used to death, somebody who didn't want them to be found—

That was when her eyes noticed small specks of red on the white shirt that was draped over Killua's forearm.

It didn't take long for Asterra to put two and two together. She swallowed. "Your doing?" she asked softly, beckoning at the hallway with her chin.

The question made the air around the both of them grow darker and heavier.

Killua shrugged, a cool look on his face. His eyes betrayed no emotion. "I was blowing off some steam."

"What, you couldn't have just used a stress ball?" Asterra asked, not out of concern for Killua's anger management skills but rather to buy time. The longer she could keep Killua talking, the longer she could keep him distracted; and the longer he was distracted, the longer Asterra had to figure out a plan to get out of this situation.

"Didn't have one on me," Killua replied.

"Try one sometime. They're pretty useful." Her mind whirred to figure out a way in which she could walk away from this alive. Make a racket to draw attention and try to get Killua detained? It seemed like it was the right thing to do in this situation. Plus if Killua was detained now she could extinguish the possibility of facing off with him in later exam phases.

"Yeah, sure they are," Killua scoffed. He then looked up at her coldly. "So, how long do you plan on stalling?"

So he was smart and to the point. The Instructors back home would have loved him _._ "You saw through it, huh?"

"It was easy," Killua said in a dismissive voice. "So, you going to let me through or not? I still have some steam to blow off."

The underlying threat wasn't lost on Asterra. _What are my odds of survival in the event he attacks me after I make a racket?_ Asterra knew nothing about Killua save for the fact that he would not hesitate to kill, which made fighting him seem less appealing already. In addition, she knew nothing about this fighting style. If a fight broke out and Killua was stronger and/or quicker than her, she'd be dead on the floor before she even got a chance to find a weakness to exploit.

"I'll give you five seconds to answer." With that Killua started counting down. "1…"

 _A countdown, eh?_ So he was establishing dominance and taking control of this situation by giving the impression that her life was in his hands. _Like hell it is, you arrogant little git_.

"2…" Killua continued.

"No need for that," Asterra interrupted, her tone a little too callous to be conversational.

Killua stopped counting.

The Resca tipped her head towards an intersection of corridors. "If you take a left up there, you'll find a restroom. Wash up before you get caught."

The silver-haired boy regarded her face, looking for signs of deceit. Asterra looked back at him straight in the eye.

After what seemed like an eternity a small smile appeared on Killua's face. "You'll live long," he said as he walked past her.

"Good to know." Asterra watched as the boy walked past her and followed him down the hall with her eyes, taking care to keep her back pressed firmly against the wall. "Hey, Killua."

Killua stopped and turned his head towards her.

"I was never here."

The boy smiled. "I wasn't either."

Asterra didn't take her eyes off of Killua until he had turned to the left at the end of the hallway. Then she steeled herself and peeked around the corner to at least get an insight on how Killua killed.

The girl wasn't a stranger to lifeless bodies and blood; she had seen her uncle slaughter farm animals and prepare them for dinner plenty of times. Yet the Resca still found herself recoiling slightly and putting a hand over her nose and mouth at the sight.

About fifteen feet away two people lay sprawled on the ground in a growing pool of blood, with spatters of crimson painting the walls around them. And each body didn't seem to be riddled with wounds as well; instead there were just several deep, well-placed gashes that guaranteed death. _So he's precise..._ _  
_

Her eyes continued to scroll over the sight to gleam more information, then suddenly stopped. Her breath hitched.

One of the corpses was looking at her with empty, unsettling eyes that seemed to be able to look right through her.

She swallowed. That man was dead. He couldn't do anything to her.

But if that was the case, why was she quickly yanking her head back around the corner and hiding behind the wall?

...

The soft buzz of conversation reached her ears and her fist tightened. She didn't have time to freeze up and cower like this; she had to get out of here, before she got caught up in the whodunit that was about to happen.

So after taking a breath to calm herself, Asterra turned on her heel and started walking off a little more quickly and quietly than usual.

=o=o=o=

The water Killua had filled a bathroom sink turned a very slight shade of pink as he washed his shirts and picked the blood from underneath his fingernails. It was a clean kill, as usual.

But somebody knew he had done it—not usual.

His eyes narrowed as he thought of the orange-haired girl. Her being there had surprised him; he had been positive that nobody was around at the time of the kill. And years of training and assassination had honed his skill for detecting the presences of nearby people.

Then why hadn't he been able to detect her?

The only people he knew who could completely erase their presence were assassins, and he didn't think she was one. Assassins gave off this vibe that Killua could detect, and she didn't have that vibe. But from her ability to remain calm in the face of danger he could tell she had been in some pretty tight spots before.

Killua drained the water out of the sink, a serious look on his face. For now, that girl wasn't much to worry about because the sounds her movements made were loud enough to give him a heads-up. But that didn't mean he could completely dismiss her as a possible threat.

=o=o=o=

The dining hall was still open, much to Asterra's relief. She didn't know what she would have done if it turned out to be closed after all that had happened.

Asterra walked through the doors into a good-sized buffet that was very empty at the moment. She passed by counters that had little food set out, save for some fruit and bread, and found the water station. A few seconds later she was sitting at an empty table with a glass of water.

She took a swig that drained three quarters of the water in the glass, then lowered said glass and started to absentmindedly spin it in tight circles.

As the water climbed up the sides of the glass she wondered exactly who Killua was and why he thought it was okay for him to kill people when he was frustrated. Was he a sociopath? Being one would explain the lack of remorse she had seen in him, as well as his rather bold behavior of killing two applicants in a brightly-lit hallway.

Well, there was one thing she could safely assume: those two weren't the first ones to fall by Killua's hand. The precision of the gashes and the fact that Killua had walked away blood-free proved it.

 _Gon, you sure know how to pick them,_ she thought as she finished the water, then frowned. _Hang on a sec...what does that say about me?_ _  
_

A clacking sound broke into her chain of thought and Asterra saw a tanned hand set down a small bag of ice in front of her. The Resca looked up to her left to see a familiar Gourmet Hunter was standing next to her, dressed in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. Her turquoise hair fell freely around her shoulders and she held a small towel in one hand and a bowl of fruit in the other.

Menchi set the towel down next to the bag of ice then pointed at her own cheek. "You should ice that—your face is starting to swell up like number 403's."

Number 403…oh. Leorio.

"Thank you," she replied, surprised at the unexpected kindness from a person who had screamed at her during the exam phase. Asterra wrapped the bag of ice in the towel and held it to her bruised jaw.

"You're welcome," Menchi nodded. Then she gestured at the seat across from Asterra and asked, "Mind if I join you?"

Asterra shook her head. "Be my guest." As Menchi sat down the Resca asked, "What brings you down here, Examiner-san? Midnight snack?"

"Drop the formalities; just call me Menchi. And to answer your question—more like an early morning snack, since it's 2:30 in the morning." The woman put a piece of pineapple in her mouth.

A small smile tugged at Asterra's mouth.

"And what brings you down here?" Menchi asked.

Asterra held up the glass. "Got thirsty."

Menchi nodded. "Gotcha."

The two sat in silence for a while, then Menchi said, "Sorry about today—you know, the screaming and the swearing. I was way out of line."

Asterra shrugged. "I'm used to it."

"Used to it?" Menchi echoed after swallowing a piece of melon. "What, have you gone through boot camp before?"

"Mmhmm. My last five, six years have been spent in a boot camp."

Menchi's eyes widened and she choked on a piece of melon. " _Six years?_ "

"Yeah," Asterra replied nonchalantly, wondering why Menchi thought that was such a big deal.

"Wow," she breathed. "I'm guessing that's where you learned to cook?"

The Resca nodded.

"Figures. That's why your soup tasted so watery and bland."

Asterra flinched slightly at the words; she never liked having her shortcomings pointed out, especially in such a blunt way. But rather than getting defensive she asked, "Then how can I make it better, Menchi?"

Menchi froze mid-bite and looked at Asterra in surprise.

"You're a Gourmet Hunter, aren't you? You must have some tips for cooking a decent-tasting soup."

A wide smile cracked Menchi's face at her words and her green eyes lit up with excitement at the opportunity to talk about her life's passion. "You know, you're the only applicant that's asked me that."

"Really?"

Menchi nodded. "All the other applicants avoid me—and the other Examiners—like the plague. I mean, it's not like I want to be buddy-buddy with all of them or anything, but still, it's ridiculous…" she grumbled. The Hunter then put her bowl of fruit to the side and leaned in, putting weight on her forearm that lay on the table. "All right, listen up," she started, a smile back on her face. "I'll start off with how to keep the soup from tasting bland…"

=o=o=o=

Why didn't this boy tire?

Another two hours had passed since that assassin boy had left, and since then this Gon boy had been going nonstop; yet he showed no signs of exhaustion. Yes, he was perspiring madly. Yes, his breath was becoming heavier. But what threw Netero off was that the boy wasn't slowing down; he was _speeding up._ Faster, faster, and faster the boy's movements became, his speed increasing as surely as the ticking of the clock. At the moment he was moving so fast that he was beginning to leave afterimages, something that he had not been able to do at the beginning of the game.

Gon's hand reached for the ball, but Netero had spent enough time observing this boy's moves to know that it was a feint. And sure enough Gon pushed off the ground and lunged for Netero's stomach. There was a solid thud as the boy headbutted the old man's stomach. Netero felt nothing, but Gon winced upon impact and his eyes watered as well.

Gon gritted his teeth as he sank back down to the ground in a crouch. "One more!" he hollered like a war cry and he launched himself at Netero again.

Netero narrowed his eyes. The boy was traveling at a speed that would cause him to crack his skull the moment he hit his stomach. But if Netero relaxed, the headbutt would make him feel a lot of pain as well.

The old man didn't like both options, so he took the third one – escape. He waited for Gon to come into arm's reach. When the boy did Netero placed his right hand on Gon's head and leapfrogged over the boy.

Gon shot into the padding face-first with a force large enough to leave a dent in the wall.

Netero landed on his feet and looked back at the boy, who didn't get up as fast as he usually did. Was he dead?

No, he was not. Gon getting up into a sitting position with a huge grin on his face proved that the boy was very much alive. But why was he grinning? He had just smacked into the wall so hard that a red bump was starting to appear on his head.

Gon continued to grin. "You just used your right hand."

Netero's eyes widened and he looked at his right hand. So he had. It had been the only hand he could use at the time, since he had held that ball in his left. The old man turned to the boy and nodded.

"Yes!" Gon hollered in joy and threw his arms up into the air. "Hooraa~" The boy's triumphant shout decrescendoed and he began to topple backwards. There was a light thud as Gon's back hit the floor, but the boy didn't notice it; he had passed out before impact.

Netero's features softened at the sight of the sleeping boy and he looked at the clock on the wall. It was 4:20 AM, so about four hours until landing…but the boy deserved more sleep than that. So Netero walked over to the phone by the door and dialed the helmsman. "Hello, helmsman? It's me. Is the flight going well?"

"Everything's going well," the helmsman replied.

"I see. I'm sorry to ruin it for you, but could you fly a little slower?"

"Slower? Okay, I can do that."

"Great, thanks." Netero hung up the phone and looked back to Gon. The old man then grabbed the boy's green jacket and draped it over him.

"Rest up," Netero whispered. "You'll need your strength."

* * *

**The things that can happen when you're just looking for a glass of water :)**

**Thanks for reading to the end. See you in the next chapter :D**

**-Rhyss**


	14. Trick Tower, Part I

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

"Hey."

The single word reached out to her, urging her to stop sailing on the seas of sleep and return to the shore of wakefulness. Her eyes opened to slits, just enough to be blinded by the ceiling lights of the sleeping room. They glared cruelly at her, much more cruelly than the soft morning sunlight she was accustomed to waking up to back home. She screwed her eyes shut and buried her face under the blanket.

"Hey." This time the word was said more strongly and was accompanied by two pokes.

Asterra's head peeked out from under the blanket and her eyes opened again. After a few blinks her eyes adjusted to the light and her vision cleared, and the Resca looked up to see a pale face with blue eyes and wild silver hair.

Blue eyes, silver hair.

The distinctive features made sleepy synapses fire to life and snippets of images and sounds flashed in her mind.

Gurgling. Thudding. Blood. Death.

The simple sounds and ideas crashed and melded together into a coherent memory that identified this person in front of her as a threat. Adrenaline made Asterra's mind shift gears into overdrive and the light in her eyes changed from sleepy to feral within milliseconds. Her body jackknifed into an aggressive crouch, pocketknife glinting in her left hand.

"Asterra?" Kikiri asked drowsily, lifting his head up. "What's wrong?"

"Good morning to you too, Goldfish Girl," Killua said. He then continued in a quieter voice, "Relax—if I wanted you dead I would have killed you in your sleep."

The wary look in Asterra's eyes didn't abate, but she did lower the weapon.

"Looks like someone's not a morning person," Leorio's voice chuckled from her right. From the lack of alarm in his voice, Asterra and Killua could tell that the older applicant hadn't seen the knife. "But seriously? Goldfish Girl?"

"'Cause her hair's orange like a goldfish," Killua replied. He looked to Leorio, who was stretching out the stiffness that came with waking up. "I think it suits her."

No, it did not. Asterra refused to be identified with something as powerless as a goldfish, even if her hair was the same color as the animal. "It's Asterra."

"Nah; Goldfish Girl's easier to remember."

The girl narrowed her eyes. "How? It's got more syllables than my real name."

Killua grinned at her irritation. "'Goldfish Girl' rolls off the tongue really easily."

"Yeah? Well so does 'Asterra'."

The boy pondered for a moment, then shook his head. "Goldfish Girl's better."

"No, it's really not," she replied.

"All right, you two." Kurapika appeared out of nowhere and inserted himself between the two applicants. "We're going to breakfast," he said as he looked over to Asterra. "Would you like to come with us?"

"What time is it?" Asterra asked.

"Half past six."

No wonder she had been so reluctant to get up. Only an hour had passed since her return to this room to go back to sleep because Menchi had spent a good three hours discussing the dos and don'ts of cooking in general, not just soups and stews. In fact, the Gourmet Hunter had gotten so excited that she had marched into the kitchens and asked the cooks to clear out a space in order to better illustrate what she was saying.

 _Well, at least you learned a lot and got a couple recipes out of it,_ the Resca thought as she stifled a yawn and quickly counted how many hours she had slept. It turned out to be five.

That wasn't good. She was used to working on seven to eight hours of sleep and worked best when she got eight.

"Asterra?" Kurapika called, waving a hand in front of her face.

Asterra shook her head and answered hurriedly, "Breakfast. Yeah, I'll come with."

Kurapika gave her a small smile as he stood up. "Come on, then. Let's go before it gets too crowded."

=o=o=o=

By 7:30 the four of them (they had found Gon passed out in a room but had not had the heart to wake him up because he was sleeping so peacefully) had almost finished breakfast.

It was also by this time that Killua had come to a baffling conclusion: Goldfish Girl had no presence, period.

It was eerie, really. If he hadn't seen her sitting across from him and eating breakfast, he would have been convinced that nobody was there. What was she, a ghost? And why did she continue to bother concealing her presence when she was in plain sight?

"Is there something on my face?"

Killua met Goldfish Girl's light sea green eyes that regarded him coolly. "Yeah," he lied, then pointed at the corner of his own mouth. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and frowned when she saw that nothing had come away.

The assassin boy just grinned cheekily as Goldfish Girl looked back at him with a look that asked "Seriously?"

=o=

What was this kid's problem?

Asterra set down the napkin as calmly as she could to cover her irritation. First that stupid, unfitting nickname. Then all throughout breakfast she had felt his eyes on her, but every time she looked up to confront him he just smirked, looked away, or did something else to avoid her question.

She got up, primarily to get away from Killua before he made her lose her cool in an embarrassing way. His current behavior almost made her doubt if he had really killed those two people last night—the kid that sat with them now acted more like an overly-spoiled, overly-bored brat that had the capacity to be charming but chose not to be.

 _Well, that's a good disguise for a killer,_ Asterra thought as she grabbed a plate. _Who's going to look twice at a kid like that?_

Old habits kicked in and she started piling her plate with rolls and hard fruits that she could use to augment her dwindling supplies of jerky. After all, she had no idea if or when the next meal was coming. There was no guarantee that there would be food waiting for them at the end of the next phase. In fact, there was no guarantee that it _wouldn't_ take place in an environment devoid of any edible flora and fauna. Better to play it safe and stock up so she wouldn't have to worry about food…for a little while, at least. And Asterra would be damned if she missed out on this chance; taking food from a buffet that she didn't even have to pay for was about as easy as it got.

=o=o=o=

"I wonder if that's where the next exam's going to be held," Kikiri murmured as he looked out the window.

Asterra, who was currently sitting on the window sill and leaning against a vertical edge of it, reluctantly opened her eyes from her light snooze to look out the window. Below the airship was a vast forest with a river running through it, and that had been all they could see for the past few hours. Now, though, they could see a huge cylindrical pillar of light-colored earth that jutted out from the surface and towered over the forest trees. The pillar's edges were carved jagged by erosion and weathering, testament to the earth's ever-continuing war with the elements. The pillar had a circular top with trees growing at the edges, and in its center was another cylindrical pillar that had the clean edges indicative of a synthetic structure. There was a great difference between the sizes of the two; if the pillar of earth was a frying pan, then the pillar at the center was a needle.

 _What an isolated place,_ Asterra thought. But before she could reply to Kikiri a tone rang over the PA system of the ship.

"I apologize for the long wait," Beans said, his voice made crackly by the speakers. "This airship will soon arrive at its destination. Please make your way to the disembarkation point in an orderly fashion. I repeat, this airship…"

"There's your answer," Asterra yawned. _Unfortunately._

"About time," Leorio grumbled as he sat up from the bench he had laying down on. "They're three hours late."

"One and a half, actually," Kurapika corrected. "It's only half past nine."

"You know what, Kurapika? I don't care!" Leorio fumed. "Late is late!"

The blonde shrugged as he stood up from the bench. "Better late than never."

Leorio merely growled and muttered darkly in response.

Killua hopped off the window ledge. "I'll go get Gon; he's probably still asleep." With that he turned into a nearby hallway. A moment later there was a surprised yelp and she heard Killua yell, "Hey, watch it!" The pattering of running feet followed the warning and a second later Gon burst out of the hallway with an excited grin on his face.

"Did you guys see that tower?" he asked, eyes wide and the excitement in his voice overwhelming any drowsiness that was left.

"Yes; we can see it from here," Kurapika replied as he stood up.

"I can't wait to see what's inside of it," he said giddily and ran off.

"Hey, wait up Gon!" Killua's voice yelled from behind them. Asterra, Leorio, and Kurapika turned around to see Killua run right by them with his skateboard under his arm.

"Jeez, how do those kids have so much energy?" Leorio stifled a yawn. "It's not even ten in the morning."

"That's why they have so much energy, old timer," Kikiri said from Asterra's shoulder.

"What was that?!" Leorio fumed at Dokujo.

"If you were really a teenager you'd be awake and full of energy by now," Kikiri continued. "And you could probably catch up to those two, too."

A vein bulged in Leorio's forehead. "Oh, is that so? Well then watch and learn, you overgrown weasel!" With that Leorio pivoted then sprinted after Gon and Killua, leaving Kurapika, Asterra and Kikiri behind.

The three spent a moment watching Leorio sprint down the corridor, then the silence was broken by a giggling fit from Kikiri. "Oh he is just too easy!" he laughed, digging his claws into the thick material on the shoulders of Asterra's hoodie to keep himself from rolling off.

Kurapika shook his head. "Honestly, Leorio," he muttered. "Where is your maturity?"

The two watched the applicants run down the corridor for a moment, then Asterra asked, "You think they know they're going the long way 'round?"

"Most likely not," Kurapika replied.

There was few moments of silence as each applicant waited for the other to suggest telling them they were going the long way round. But both of them really did not feel like chasing down.

"Well, it's not like it's that big of a blimp." Kurapika then turned to Asterra. "So, where's the shortcut?"

"This way," the Resca replied, then turned on her heel crisply and started walking in the other direction.

=o=o=o=

By the 9:50 the group of five applicants had disembarked the blimp and had melted into the crowd of applicants that were gathered at the new exam site. After the last person walked off the gangplank Beans cleared his throat, and 40 applicants turned towards him. "Everyone," he started. "The exam's third phase will begin here, at the top of Trick Tower."

Asterra looked around, wondering what was so tricky about this place. They were on the top of that cylindrical tower they had seen from the airship and there was nothing to resemble an exam phase here—no doors, no obstacle courses, nothing. All that was visible was the floor made of rectangular stone panels that fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

"To pass this phase, you must reach the tower's base alive in 72 hours," Beans continued. "On that note, we will now begin the Third Phase. I wish you all the best." With that Beans boarded the blimp and there was an announcement that asked all the applicants to retreat to a safe distance. After the applicants did so, the blimp took off and flew off towards the horizon.

The group of five then made their way over to the edge of the pillar to see if they could climb down. They carefully peered over the edge to see that they it was a very, _very_ long way to go without safety ropes of any kind.

Leorio clutched his briefcase with both hands. "W-We're not supposed to climb down, are we?"

"That would be tantamount to suicide," Kurapika replied, voice calm and arms crossed.

"For a normal person, maybe."

The five turned towards the sound of the voice—a tanned, muscular man that wore a grey tank and dark blue shorts. Durable fingerless gloves covered his hands and he sported the number 86.

Asterra raised an eyebrow. "I take it you're not a normal person, then."

"No I'm not." The man walked around the five and, after looking around for a few moments, lowered himself over the edge. "This is nothing for an expert rock-climber like me." With that, the man began to descend using hand and footholds that Asterra valued her life too much to even consider using.

"Wow…" Killua said.

Gon poked his head poked over the edge to observe the man's progress. "He's going down pretty fast."

"Looks like I'll be the first one to pass the third phase," the rock climber grinned as he put his foot in another foothold.

He was about twenty feet from the edge when Kikiri suddenly fluffed up and growled. Before Asterra could ask him what was wrong, though, a soft and steady beating sounds reached her ears. She looked up to the halcyon skies. "You guys hear that?"

"Yeah," Killua replied for Gon, Leorio, and Kurapika. All four of them were also searching the air for the source of the sound in the skies above them.

"It sounds like a…bird?" Gon trailed off.

That was when a scream from the rock climber made all of their heads snap down.

The rock climber was being swarmed by a flock of massive, different-colored creatures that looked like the end result of exposing cupids to too much radiation. Their bodies were like those of overweight babies, save for the second pair of arms that sprouted from their sides, but their heads looked far from cherubic. Their eyes were narrowed so much it looked like they were shut, each one's nose was too big for its face, and each one's lips was stretched across its face so much it looked grossly thin. And all of their heads were crowned with short, scraggly hairs rather than the healthy, shining locks cupids traditionally had.

"Stay away!" the climber screamed, pressing into the wall and trying to make himself as small as possible. Fear clouded his mind and froze his limbs. "Stop! Stop it!"

His efforts and screamed pleas did nothing to keep the creatures away, though. The flock kept circling him like vultures flying around a dying, helpless animal. And the group of five applicants could only look on, frozen, with eyes wide with shock as the climber continued to cower and scream.

Eventually a red one of the cupids descended until he was under the climber and then started flying almost vertically, its stomach almost touching the brick wall. The climber looked down in terror and screamed more urgently; but the creature ignored his pleas and instead opened its mouth wide to reveal wickedly sharp teeth and a blue tongue. The climber's screaming stopped almost immediately as if his vocal chords had suddenly failed.

The cupid then used its teeth to scrape the climber off the wall. Sharp teeth slid under the climber's feet, making the climber's legs dangle in the creature's mouth. A blink later the screaming was back and all of the climber's body, from the torso down, was in the creature's mouth. Terror-filled eyes looked up at the five applicants on the ledge, pleading them to help him get out of this predicament.

Another blink later, the climber no longer hung onto the wall for all of his body was behind the cupid's teeth.

The five applicants hurriedly backed away from the edge as the red cupid, joined by several others, zoomed over their heads and veered away. The man's screaming faded away into the nothingness, leaving behind a stunned silence and shocked applicants that continued to gaze in the direction the flock of cupids had flown off in.

"G-Guess we can't climb down the side…" Leorio quavered, both hands still clutching his briefcase.

"You think?" Kikiri asked as his fur settled back to its normal shape.

=o=o=o=

_21…22…23…huh?_

Asterra blinked. Ten minutes ago she had counted 29 people on top of this tower. The Resca was sure there were no mistakes in her counting; she had triple counted and gotten the same number each time.

What was going on? People couldn't just magically disappear, so they had to be getting off the roof of this cylinder somehow…

"Asterra, four o'clock!"

The Resca whirled on the balls of her feet to her right, her body automatically slipping into battle mode at the sound of urgency in Kikiri's voice.

But it turned out to be an unnecessary preparation, for no threat was coming at her from that angle. Instead she saw a baffling sight—a person forty feet away from her suddenly plummeting into the ground as if yanked downwards by an unseen force.

She blinked and shook her head, then looked again. The applicant was no longer there. _Did that guy just…?_

"Asterra! Leorio! Kurapika!"

Asterra recognized Gon's voice and turned towards it to see him and Killua standing near the edge. Gon was waving at her in a beckoning manner, so she ran over to the two younger applicants. "Find something?" she asked as Leorio and Kurapika arrived.

"Uh-huh," Gon nodded. "We found a trapdoor." The dark-haired boy knelt down and pushed on a stone panel. Sure enough, the panel sunk slightly into the ground with a click.

"So some of the stone panels double as trap doors," Kurapika mused. "That explains a lot."

"Nice one, Gon!" Leorio clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Let's head down!"

"But I'm confused," Gon admitted.

"About what?" Kikiri asked.

"There are trapdoors here, there, there, there, there, over there, and over there." Gon accented each "there" by pointing to a series of what just looked like normal stone panels.

"That many?" Leorio asked.

"Seven hidden doors, located in the same area," Kurapika repeated, hand to chin. "That's suspicious."

"Maybe a couple of them are booby-trapped," Asterra offered.

"And it looks like each door can only be used once too…" Killua followed up.

"Seriously?" Leorio asked incredulously.

Killua nodded. "We tried opening a door that somebody else used, but it wouldn't budge."

"And judging by the door's size, only one can fit at a time," Kurapika noted.

"In other words, each door can only be used once, and by one person only," the silver-haired boy summarized. "So we'll have to split up. Gon and I decided that we're each going to choose a door."

"No hard feelings if one of us springs a trap!" Gon added. "What are you guys gonna do?"

"I can live with that. Luck is part of the game," Leorio nodded.

"Better than being stuck up here," Asterra replied. "Kikiri?"

"I'm okay with that."

"And I have no objection. So that settles it." Kurapika said.

With that each applicant stepped up to one of the hidden doors that Gon had pointed out.

"Let's go on the count of three," Leorio suggested.

"I guess this is goodbye for now," Gon said.

"Let's meet up again, at the tower's base," Kurapika smiled.

Asterra nodded. "Good luck, guys."

Killua looked down at the stone panel in front of him, an eager look in his eyes. "All right; let's go!"

The other four nodded. "One!" They all counted. "Two! Three!"

On three all of them jumped onto their respective panels.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the ground under each applicant gave way with a click and their surprised cries filled the air.

Within milliseconds Asterra and Kikiri were plunged into darkness as the stone panel clicked into place again and blocked the sunlight. The wind whistled by them as they fell through a chimney-like tunnel, and a second later they were in a dimly lit room with grey walls. The Resca landed neatly on all fours with a thud, and simultaneously she heard three other light thuds as well as one heavy one around her.

 _Hostiles?_ _Traps?_ "See anything?" she half-barked at Kikiri.

"Umm…yeah," was Kikiri's reply.

Asterra frowned at the Dokujo's reply, then looked up to see what had made those sounds—

—only to look into very familiar blue eyes.

"Goldfish Girl?" a voice asked.

"Killua?" she asked back incredulously.

"The others are here too," Kikiri added and Asterra looked around. Leorio lay on his stomach, his face a little red from landing on it. Kurapika and Gon were kneeling on the ground, their eyes wide.

The five looked at each other, dumbfounded, for a moment.

"Well that was quite a brief farewell," Kurapika mused as he stood up and brushed himself off.

"So the doors all lead to the same room, huh…" Leorio muttered as he got into a sitting position. "Looks like we ended up worrying more than we needed to."

That was when Gon stood up and walked over towards the wall. The other four applicants noticed the movement and looked to see what he was walking towards.

The dark-haired boy stopped in front of a small, silver cylindrical pillar with seven watch-like objects on it. Above the pillar hung a sign. "The seven of you must follow the will of the majority to reach the goal," Gon read as the four other applicants gathered around him.

"The seven of us?" Leorio murmured.

"Look…there are seven timers as well." Gon picked up a silver watch. There was a small, greenish screen that read "71:19:00," then "71:18:59." Asterra assumed it was the amount of time they had left to get to the bottom of the tower. Beneath the screen were two buttons—one with a red "O" on it and one with a blue "X" on it.

Everybody took a watch and put it on their wrist, which left two watches on the table. Kurapika looked at the two watches, then wondered out loud, "'The seven of you'…could it be that we won't be able to leave this room until another two people drop in?"

"That is correct!"

The applicants whirled around at the unfamiliar, crackly voice that had come from behind them.

"Who's there?!" Leorio demanded.

"My name is Lippo," the same voice said from the speaker on the opposite wall. "I am the prison warden here, as well as the Third Phase examiner."

"Prison warden?" Kurapika repeated.

"Yes," Lippo replied. "This tower is normally a prison, but when I heard I was going to be an Examiner I did some tweaking in order to make it into a maze—one with multiple starting points and multiple paths that lead to the finish line.

"You all have chosen the path of majority rule; cooperation will be key if you wish to clear this phase of the exam. One member's selfish behavior can derail an entire group, after all. And as mentioned before, you cannot start until all seven members have gathered. So on that note, best of luck to you all!"

There was a click and the speaker went silent.

"So we can't move on until someone else arrives?" Leorio asked.

"Looks like it." Kurapika looked up at the ceiling.

The others looked up at the ceiling as well, hoping that by doing so a random applicant would come falling from the ceiling and crash in front of them with a thud.

=o=o=o=

 _Prison, eh?_ Asterra thought as she stroked Kikiri. That explained the sheer inaccessibility of this place—why the building was built on top of a towering pillar of earth, why there were no visible windows or doors on the outside, and why flocks of carnivorous cupids from hell patrolled the walls of the tower.

And if the level of security was indicative of the people incarcerated in this place…they must have housed the worst of the worst here. As in those that nations would do anything to prevent their re-entry into society.

…What a cheery place to have the next phase.

That was when Leorio, who was sitting against the silver table and tapping his foot, shot up with an exasperated roar. "This is ridiculous!"

Asterra blinked at his reaction and Kikiri raised his head to see what was going on. Killua stopped swinging Gon's fishing rod and looked towards Leorio with a bored expression. The sound of wheels scraping against stone disappeared as Gon stopped skateboarding around the room to look at Leorio as well.

"It's been two hours since we got here…What if the others all took different routes?" Leorio slammed a fist into the palm of the other hand. "Only an idiot would still be at the top of the tower!"

"Calm down, Leorio," Kurapika chided. "Complaining won't help."

 _Thank you, Kurapika,_ Asterra thought.

"Maybe, but what if time runs out before we get enough people together!?" Leorio asked, accenting his words by jabbing at his watch. "I mean, if it's taking one person this long to come, how long is it going to get the second one?"

Suddenly a knocking sound reached all the applicants' ears, save for Leorio's.

"We can't just—"

"Shh!" Kurapika hissed and pointed up.

Leorio looked up, eyes turning hopeful as his ears caught the sound of knocking from above. The four male applicants gathered around the area where the knocking sound was coming from, and Kikiri climbed onto Asterra's shoulder as she rose up and walked over as well. There was a small click then the wooshing sound of the stone panel flipping. A moment later a heavy-set applicant in blue came plummeting down and hit the ground on his stomach with an "Oomf!"

"Good grief…" the man muttered as he stood up.

Asterra's shoulders sagged slightly as she recognized the voice and the man's clothes. Of course it had to be this applicant that came falling from the ceiling.

"Tonpa-san." Gon said, eyes widened by surprise.

Everybody else looked at him with eyes narrowed in disappointment.

"Oh," Killua said flatly.

"It's you," Leorio added just as flatly.

"Nice to see you guys too," Tonpa smiled brightly, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the majority of the people in the room did _not_ want him here.

"Now we just need one more," Kurapika said, looking towards the ceiling.

Tonpa cocked his head at the blonde's words.

"We need seven people to get started," Gon said, pointing at the sign.

Tonpa went to read the sign, then said, "Oh. So we do." He then put on one of the watches that were left.

"Did you see anyone else still up there?" Kurapika asked.

"I don't know." Tonpa turned back around. "I think I might've been the last one."

That confirmed Leorio's worse fears. "What?!" the applicant fumed. "How the hell did the examiners let that happen?!"

"Maybe it's because that climber got eaten," Killua suggested. "It messed everything up."

"Dammit!" Leorio swore. "So now we're stuck here until 72 hours is up?!"

"Not necessarily."

The five other applicants looked to the applicant who had just spoken.

"What do you mean by that?" Kurapika asked.

"Technically, we have seven already," Asterra continued. "If you count Kikiri as our seventh member."

The other applicants blinked and looked at her like she had suggested jumping off the Trick Tower as a way to get to the bottom. Leorio broke the stunned silence. "Asterra, if you're trying to be funny let me give you some friendly feedback." Then he half-roared, "This is NOT the time for stupid jokes!"

"Leorio," Kurapika said in an exasperated voice.

Asterra crossed her arms, wondering what about her previous behavior had made Leorio think she was so tactless. "I'm not joking."

Leorio blinked a couple of times, his face the very picture of confusion. "Wait, you're serious?"

"Does it look like I'm joking?" she asked irritably as she drew an imaginary circle around her face with her index finger.

"Well, uh…" Leorio trailed off.

"No," Gon answered.

"Thank you for your direct answer," Asterra said to the dark-haired boy, then turned back to Leorio. "Why did my idea sound like a joke to you?"

"Why?" Leorio frowned. "Because only applicants can put on the watches."

"And therein lies the problem," Asterra said. "You're assuming that the members of this group of seven have to be human applicants."

"Well, duh," Killua said. "A foxbear isn't going to take the Hunter Exam."

Asterra nodded at Killua. "True; but Lippo and that sign"—she pointed with her thumb to the sign above the metal cylinder—"never explicitly said that the ones who put on the watches have to be humans or applicants."

"He didn't…?" Leorio leaned back as he tried to recall what Lippo had said word for word.

"Did he?" Gon asked Killua.

Killua shook his head.

"So you're saying we can make Kikiri a member because the Examiner never explicitly gave requirements for being a watch-wearer," Kurapika mused, hand to chin. "That's quite a stretch, isn't it?"

Asterra shrugged. "Not really; I'm just taking advantage of a loophole."

Kurapika looked at her incredulously, then shook his head. "You'd make a good lawyer."

"Hold on a second," Tonpa butted in. "This idea of hers might not be breaking any rules, but aren't you guys missing a basic point here?" He pointed at Kikiri. "Animals can't talk; how are we supposed to cooperate with them when taking a vote?"

Kikiri blew that point out of the water with his next words. "I'm not mute."

Tonpa visibly jumped at Kikiri's words and his eyes bulged. "Wha—?"

Kikiri jumped from shoulder to shoulder of each applicant until he was on a pair of shoulder's closest to Tonpa—Gon's.

"How is that…?"

"I'm a Dokujo; I can understand what you're saying and I can tell you what I think of it," Kikiri half-growled into Tonpa's face.

"Oh…ok," Tonpa replied, nervous eyes on Kikiri. "Th-Then here's another thing! How do we know that you"—he gestured at Asterra—"won't just tell him what to do?"

"The old man's got a point," Killua added.

 _Shit_. _He just had to ask that, didn't he?_ Asterra didn't have a good argument for that, mainly because she had banked on the fact that the others would be desperate enough to go along with her plan without thinking too much. "He's got his own mind," she replied vaguely.

"I don't know that for sure." Tonpa crossed his arms. "I can't go along with this plan."

"What?!" Leorio asked. "Why? You said so yourself that there might not be any applicants left on the roof. If that's true, then Asterra's plan is the only way to get started!"

"Maybe; but I'm not going along if the voting is going to be rigged," Tonpa replied obstinately, his mouth in a thin line that, to Asterra, looked like a small, satisfied smirk.

_A smirk? Why the hell is he smirking?_

"Besides, I might have been wrong about being the last one up there; for all we know, there's still some poor applicant wandering around up there whose only way to get down the tower is by being part of our group of seven."

 _Like I give a damn_. "Then let him wander and fail"—Asterra accented the words with an upwards flick of her chin—"he can try again next year. At the moment I'm more worried about myself and the situation _I'm_ in."

…

Some sentiments were really better off being unsaid.

Tonpa's eyes widened. "My, my. Showing your true colors now, are we?" He then turned to the four other applicants. "See? She's only worried about herself; she wouldn't hesitate to order her pet to vote for the choice that _she_ thinks is right."

"Asterra isn't like that!" Kikiri snarled from Gon's shoulder. "And I'm not her puppet either!"

Tonpa ignored Kikiri and continued, "If we go with her idea, it's like giving her two votes automatically."

Anger flared up in Asterra's stomach not at the meaning of the words but rather the intent behind them. From the way he excluded her from the conversation by turning to the other applicants and talking like she wasn't in the same room...Tonpa's intentions were blatantly obvious.

He was trying to isolate her from the group by making her look like a threat and a liability.

 _Calm down, Asterra,_ the Resca thought. She had to make a counterargument before Tonpa did too much damage.

But she couldn't. For reasons unknown to her the fury refused to settle, and instead it clouded her mind like smog, keeping words from coming together to form a good counterargument. And then it suggested a much simpler, more physical way to get Tonpa to stop talking.

She took a step towards Tonpa, eyes glittering with a cold fury and mouth pressed into a grim line.

"And why should we give two votes to a person who only thinks about herself rather than the good of the group?" Tonpa continued.

Another step closed the distance between her and Tonpa. She was almost within punching range; she was almost close enough to shut the bastard up and stem the flow of poisonous words that streamed from his mouth.

Kurapika saw the expression on her face and looked at her in alarm. He took a step towards her. "Asterra—"

If she heard him, she gave no signs of it. The Resca simply raised her foot to take another step that would bring her within arm's reach of Tonpa.

* * *

**Dun dun duuuuh~!**

**As always, thanks for reading to the end.**

**-Rhyss**


	15. Trick Tower, Part II

**Hey, I'm back *waves sheepishly***

**Enjoy the chapter :)**

* * *

If all went well, it would only take Asterra two moves to quiet Tonpa.

Move number one would consist of tapping him on his right shoulder with her left hand. This would make him turn clockwise towards her, right into her second move: a quick right jab to the face.

The result: Tonpa crumpling to the floor, groveling as blood streamed out of a possibly broken nose.

Had Asterra been in a calm state of mind, she would have remembered to control her strength. She would have remembered that non-Resca like Tonpa weren't as sturdy as the Resca Trainees she was used to sparring because of a simple anatomical factor: a difference in bone density. A Resca's skeletal system made of high-density bone made him/her sturdier than a non-Resca of the same height and build. So in theory a blow that sent a Resca Trainee reeling back a couple of steps could give a non-Resca a broken nose.

However, Asterra was not in a calm state of mind. She wasn't particularly worried about the physical effects her punch could have on Tonpa either. At the moment her goal was to get him to stop talking, and she wasn't picky about what methods she used to make it happen. But before she could put her foot down to set the whole chain of events in motion, a small figure in green stepped in the space between her and Tonpa.

"I have an idea," the figure said as he spread his arms slightly.

Asterra returned her foot to its starting position and blinked. _Gon? What is he—?_

"Let's take a vote," the dark-haired boy suggested. "This is the route of majority rule, isn't it?"

Asterra blinked again, then a hissed "Hey!" made her notice that Kikiri was sitting on Gon's backpack.

"Cool it!" he hissed at her. "I know you're pissed, but punching the guy's lights out isn't going to solve anything—it'll make you look even worse!"

She bit her lip. "Kikiri…"

"You're lucky Gon had the guts to step out in front of you," the Dokujo continued, then he jumped onto her arm and climbed up. "…How much sleep did you get last night?"

"Five…then I took a one hour nap."

Kikiri puffed out air. "Thought so. You never did great on sleep-deprivation days." He settled on her shoulder. "Take it easy, all right? Don't give that fatso more flaws to point out. Avoid him, if that's what it takes."

"…Are you mothering me?" Asterra muttered to him.

"No, I'm officially clocking in as your voice of reason. Now focus."

Asterra stopped biting her lip and took a deep breath and exhaled. _Don't let Tonpa get to you._ She repeated the sentence until it was firmly cemented in her mind as a short-term goal. With each repetition she felt the dark feeling from before abate, felt it being pushed away into a box in the corner of her mind. When the last bit of anger was finally secured, the Resca murmured her thanks to Kikiri and turned her attention to the conversation that was currently going on.

"I have no objections," Kurapika said.

"Tonpa-san?" Gon asked.

"I'm fine as long as that animal doesn't vote."

Kikiri narrowed his eyes at the words. After a moment of silence, he replied, "Fine."

Gon looked back to Asterra, his eyes asking her for her opinion.

Asterra nodded stiffly; she didn't like the idea of Kikiri not being able to vote but at this point she didn't have a choice. There wasn't enough time to bicker about every single thing she disagreed with. "I'm fine with voting."

A wide smile spread across Gon's face, one that somehow made her black feeling that she had filed away simmer down and seem foolish. "Great! Kurapika, can you carry it out?"

"All right," the Kurta nodded at Gon. The blonde then turned his head to the group. "Raise your hand to vote, and each person gets one vote. First: all in favor of making Kikiri our seventh member?"

Kurapika, Leorio, Asterra, Gon, and—surprisingly—Killua raised their hands.

Kurapika continued, "All not in favor of making Kikiri our seventh member?"

Tonpa raised his hand.

"Then it's settled," Kurapika said. "Kikiri will become our seventh member."

"Haha, yes!" Leorio cheered. "We can finally get going!"

Kikiri cheered as well. Asterra resisted the urge to smirk at Tonpa and instead exhaled in relief. She then walked over to the silver table and grabbed the last watch. Kikiri jumped onto the table and waited as Asterra clicked the band shut around the portion of Kikiri's neck that was near his shoulders. "Not too tight, is it?" she asked.

"Nope," the Dokujo replied as he craned his neck to see the front of the watch. "Hmm…I can't see…" he muttered. There was a slight crackling sound, akin to the sounds of joints cracking, and Kikiri's neck elongated.

There were gasps from the applicants, as well as one yelp of surprise from Leorio. "That never gets old," the Dokujo chuckled, then twisted his neck into a loop. More gasps came, then Killua and Gon simultaneously grinned, "Cool!"

"Quit messing around," Asterra said in exasperation. "We've lost enough time already."

"Ok, ok," Kikiri laughed, straightening his neck out again, and craned his neck until his head was right in front of the watch. The Dokujo then walked to a place Tonpa could see him and experimentally touched each button with his forepaws. "Good, I can press them," he muttered, then he looked up to Asterra. "Don't want to give Fatso another reason to say that I'm not fit for the job."

Kikiri's neck shrunk back to normal size and he climbed up her arm again, taking his usual position on her shoulder. Asterra then turned and walked back towards the applicants.

"H-How did you do that?" Leorio stammered, one finger pointed at Kikiri.

"How?" Kikiri repeated. "I dunno; I just do it."

"Th-That is not natural," Leorio muttered. "At all."

That was when a large grating sound filled the room. All the applicants turned to see a section of the stone wall slide up and reveal a wooden door.

_Well, that's a good start,_ Asterra thought as she joined the applicants who had gathered by the door.

"Looks like it worked," Killua mused.

"So the door was set to open when all the watches were put on," Kurapika mused. "No matter who they were put on."

The stone door continued to slide up until it revealed a sign with writing on the door, as well as two black screens underneath it. "Select O to open, X to not open," Gon read.

"Forcing us to use majority rule already?" Leorio sighed. "The answer should be obvious…"

There were beeps as everybody pressed a button on their watches, and a moment later on the sign a tally appeared on the two black screens—six O's, one X.

Asterra frowned.

"That can't be right," Kikiri muttered.

"What?!" Leorio exclaimed as the door slid open. "Who pushed the X button?"

"Sorry, that was me," Tonpa apologized. "I pressed the wrong button by mistake."

Leorio grabbed Tonpa by the front of his shirt. "We've lost enough time already, old man! Stop screwing around!" he snapped into his face.

"Like I said, it was an accident," Tonpa replied, turning his face away from Leorio slightly with a look that asked "Why are you getting so angry?"

"How can you accidentally press the wrong button?!" Leorio roared. "We're talking about O's and X's here! Even a preschooler could do this!"

"Come on, Leorio; it doesn't matter." Gon stepped towards Leorio and Tonpa. "The door opened."

"No, it does matter!" Leorio snapped back. "I'm sure this guy deliberately pressed the wrong button…"

Kurapika beckoned at the doorway with his head. "Come on, let's get going. We don't have time to argue."

"He's right," Killua said. "Besides, even if the old man keeps pressing the wrong one, the rest of us just need to press the right one. We'll overrule him every time."

The four of them walked on, and Leorio reluctantly let go of Tonpa with a muttered, "Fine."

Tonpa smirked at him then said "All right, let's go!" as he walked through the doorway.

Leorio followed with barely contained anger.

The next room they came to had two gates: one on the left side, one on the right side. On the wall in front of the entrance was a sign and two black screens beneath it.

"Seriously? Another question already?" Leorio muttered.

Gon read, "Which way do you want to go? O for the right, X for the left."

All the applicants looked at each gate. They looked identical, and the corridors they barred entrance to looked identical as well.

Left or right…Left or right…

Asterra looked at both corridors again, hoping to see something that would indicate one being more difficult than the other. She found none.

"Dammit," she muttered under her breath, then after quickly playing eeny meeny miny moe pressed the X button. Kikiri pressed the O button.

There was a small beep and the scoreboard below the question showed four O's, three X's. The gate on the right slid open.

"What? Wh-Why would you go right? Wouldn't you go left in these situations?" Leorio asked in a half-panicky voice.

Kurapika nodded. "Studies have indicated that people who are lost or stuck at forks unconsciously tend to go left."

"Hey, I've heard that before too," Killua added.

"Wait a second; the numbers don't add up!" Leorio argued. He looked to Kurapika and Killua. "Which button did you guys press?"

"Right," Killua and Kurapika replied as they walked towards the gate on the right.

"Why?"

"To outfox the examiner," Tonpa said. "If the examiner knows that people tend to go left, he would have made the left path more difficult." With that he walked off.

That left Gon and Leorio in the room. Leorio looked at Gon then grumbled, "Fine, we're simple-minded!"

"We?" Gon asked as he followed Leorio out of the room.

=o=o=o=

After 10 minutes of following the corridor that had been barred by the gate on the right, the group of applicants came to a stop at a ledge.

"What is this place?" Leorio asked.

Said "place" was a large, rectangular space that didn't have a visible floor or ceiling. In the middle of the space was a square island, about 35 feet by 35 feet, made up of stone tiles and held up by a large stone pillar. Light was provided by four torches that were on the corners of the island.

"Look over there," Killua pointed out. On the opposite side was a structure that was a mirror image to theirs: there was a ledge that led into a corridor that was blocked off by a set of metal bar gates. Seven people were gathered in the corridor. Each had a grey pancho-like cloak that obscured the majority of their torso, and a head covering obscured their face.

What interested Asterra more, though, was where they were standing. Six of the prisoners stood together where the corridor met the ledge, while the remaining prisoner sat against the metal gate towards the back. To her it looked like the two parties were trying to put as much distance between themselves as possible. _So something's different about the one in the back,_ Asterra thought. _Is he more dangerous than the others? Or is he just a loner?_

"The applicants are here," a deep voice said. "Remove the shackles."

A moment later there were large clanging sounds as shackles fell to the floor from the wrists of a tanned man that stood at the front of the group of six prisoners. The prisoner rubbed his wrists. "Finally…" the same deep voice from before muttered as the hands pulled off the head cover, revealing a tall, extremely muscular man with a harsh face and scars circling his bald head. "I hate those things."

Maybe it was the way he was dressed—tight t-shirt tucked into long pants—or maybe it was the way he carried himself. But Asterra immediately knew in her gut that this prisoner had some kind of military background.

"Allow me to explain, everybody," Lippo's voice came over the intercom again. "Before you are some of Trick Tower's prisoners who were all hired by the Hunter Association to be Examiners."

_They can do that?_ Asterra thought in surprise.

"You will be fighting against the seven of them," Lippo continued. "The fights will be one-on-one, with each combatant fighting only once. You are free to use any method of fighting you desire. There are no draws, and a win is declared when the opponent admits defeat."

The soldier then followed, "You get to pick your order, and you must secure four wins or more to pass."

"Majority rule again?" Leorio muttered.

"It's probably called the 'majority rule path' for a reason, Leorio," Asterra added.

"Okay, smartass," Leorio growled.

Killua shrugged. "At least the rules are straightforward."

"Yes, the rules are straightforward; but the fights won't be," Lippo warned. "The contract we used to hire the prisoners state that for every hour they keep you here, they have a year shaved off their sentence."

Kurapika looked down at his watch. "And we have a time limit of 72 hours…Time will be critical during these fights."

"I, Bendot, will be going first," the soldier said, his voice echoing surprisingly well across the room. "Choose your first person!"

"What should we do?" Killua looked to the other applicants. "He said that we can fight with any method, which means anything goes."

"We don't know what they'll try to pull…" Leorio muttered, eyes wary.

Kurapika nodded. "There's too much at stake without knowing what they have up their sleeves," he said.

Which made volunteering to go first all the more unappealing to Asterra.

The Kurta leaned forward to take a step. "Given that, I'll—"

"No, I'll go!" Tonpa cut off Kurapika and took a step forward.

The other applicants looked at him with disbelief.

"I'll act as a canary so we can discover what they're up to," Tonpa said as he turned back to the applicants. "Consider this an apology for before."

Asterra's arms crossed at the man's words.

"Hey, are you serious?" Leorio asked.

"Yes," Tonpa nodded. "Plus, you guys don't actually trust me, right? Do you really want me to be the tiebreaker when the score is 3-3?"

He did have a point there.

"Not really," Kikiri answered.

"Then it's settled," Tonpa grimly smiled.

As soon as he ended his words a scraping sound rang out from under their feet. The source of the sound turned out to be a block of stone that moved out of the ledge and revealed its true form: a metal pathway. After a few seconds of scraping the pathway entered a slot on the side of the island with a large thud and formed a bridge between the ledge and the square island. There was a similar large thud on the other side of the room as another bridge was made between the prisoner's ledge and the square island.

Tonpa took off his shoulder bag and set it to the side, then made his way across the metal bridge.

The soldier walked to the island as well.

"Well that was something," Leorio muttered. "I didn't expect Tonpa to volunteer."

"He called himself a canary as well…" Kurapika said.

The two combatants met at the middle of the square and the metal paths retracted. "Now, let's determine the method of combat," the soldier said, hands on hips. "I propose a death match."

Tonpa's eyes widened at Bendot's suggestion.

"Death match?!" Gon exclaimed.

"They're gonna fight until one dies?" Leorio yelped, his face turning into a collection of stacked O's out of surprise.

"Come on, Tonpa," Kurapika muttered, tucking his chin in slightly. "Don't let him provoke you."

_Actually, please do,_ Asterra thought as she put her hands in her pockets. _So I can see how much more of a threat you are._

From the way he had pointed out and turned the Resca's selfishness against her earlier, she could tell that he had a knack for stirring up unrest with his words. And as much as that was something she needed to be extremely careful of, she still didn't have an accurate picture of him because that revealed nothing about how he fought. The Resca knew nothing about his strengths and weaknesses, how he reacted to certain situations, as well as see if he was willing and able to kill a person—all useful things to keep in mind in the event Tonpa turned on her.

And in the event he died…well, there would be one less threat to worry about.

"So?" Bendot asked. "What's it going to be?"

Tonpa's features became more serious. "Very well; I'll accept those terms!" Tonpa replied in a firm voice. His fists rose up into a boxing stance.

Leorio, Gon, Kikiri and Kurapika sharply inhaled in alarm. Killua's and Asterra's facial expressions didn't change.

_All right, Tonpa. Let's see what you can do._

The prisoner lowered his posture, an eager smile on his face. "I commend you for your courage."

With that the prisoner took a step to the left, which Tonpa mirrored. The two circled each other warily for a few moments, and the atmosphere became heavy as it was laced with tension.

The soldier took a final step, then he sharply pivoted. His knees bent slightly and a nanosecond later he was in the air, heading right for Tonpa. He cleared the distance between him and Tonpa with a single jump and descended at a 45-degree angle, his hand balled into a fist. To Asterra it looked like Bendot was aiming for Tonpa's face or throat.

To her surprise, Tonpa's posture didn't change into one that telegraphed a dodge. Instead the man raised his arms high, as if to block the blow—

—then threw himself prostrate onto the ground.

Asterra blinked. _What the—?_

"I give!" Tonpa hollered, his voice slightly muffled but still audible.

The faces of all the applicants gained bewildered expressions as Tonpa's words echoed around the room and faded into the silence.

There was a slight pattering sound as Bendot landed on his bare feet right in front of Tonpa, who seemed to have his forehead glued to the floor.

"Did…Tonpa-san just give up?" Gon ventured.

"…Maybe he meant 'Give me a sec'?" Leorio offered hopefully.

"What did you just say?" the soldier asked, towering over the prostrate Tonpa.

Tonpa tore his forehead up from the floor and looked up at Bendot, beads of sweat rolling down his face. "Y-You win if I admit defeat, right?" he confirmed in a shaky voice, then bowed his head down and looked back up. "So I give up! I lose! However way you wanna put it!" A nervous chuckle escaped him.

Asterra gaped at his words. Leorio made odd choking sounds and looked ready to blow up completely.

Bendot looked at Tonpa with a surprised look. Then that look crumbled into one of amusement and laughter spilled out of his mouth and he put his hand to the side of his head. "All right," he said as he stilled his shaking shoulders. "I win this round."

There was a beeping sound and the number "1" appeared on the black screen located above the ledge the prisoners were on.

"Keep in mind that if you lose three more rounds, we'll win," Bendot continued. "You won't be able to advance or turn back until the 72 hours are up, which means are sentences will be reduced by 72 years."

There was a grinding sound as the metal paths appeared again, and both combatants walked back to their respective ledges.

Asterra pushed her hands deeper into her pockets as Tonpa started walking towards them.

"Deep breaths," Kikiri whispered to her.

"I know, I know," the Resca hissed, now not only angry at Tonpa but also at herself. Asterra didn't care if it was because she hadn't gotten enough sleep—it still pissed her off that it was taking this much effort to quell her anger and keep herself from acting on it. It was usually much easier to distance herself from her emotions.

"Man, that was a disgrace," Tonpa said in an apologetic tone. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand as he glanced back at Bendot. "He looked a lot stronger up cl—"

His words were cut off by a snarl followed up by a hand that snatched the front of his shirt and jerked him upwards.

Kurapika, Asterra, Gon, and Killua turned towards Leorio, who had a seething look on his face. "You just confirmed all my suspicions, you son of a bitch!" Leorio snarled into Tonpa's face. "You're just a worthless piece of shit who's only good for sabotaging other applicants!"

There were a few moments of tense silence as Tonpa blinked and Leorio glared at him intensely, as if doing so would burn holes in Tonpa's face. No words of protest came out of Tonpa; instead the bewildered look on his face morphed into a smirk. "Exactly," Tonpa grinned darkly. "That's what I've been doing all these years, and that's what I'm going to keep on doing for the rest of my life." Tonpa saw the looks of confusion on the other applicants' faces and continued. "You see, I'm not looking to pass the Hunter Exam; I'm only in it for the thrills."

"The thrills?" Leorio echoed carefully.

Tonpa nodded, although it looked more like he bobbed his head because Leorio's grip prevented him from doing anything else. "The Hunter Exam is a trial meant to crush confident young people's dreams. That expression they get in that moment of despair, when all of their hopes and ambitions are swept away…that's what gives me the most pleasure in life." He paused, as if reminiscing all of the applicants he had tricked into failing over the ears, and a satisfied smile appeared on his face. "It's even better when I'm shattering rookies' dreams. The feeling of destroying something that's been growing for all those years, sustaining and motivating a person enough to take the Hunter Exam…there's no better feeling in this world."

Asterra's hands curled into tight fists that she shoved even deeper into her pockets. Kikiri growled quietly next to her ear.

"That's why I'll be damned if I become a Hunter—I wouldn't be able to take the Hunter Exam ever again and that would mean losing my life's pleasure." Tonpa shrugged. "I've had enough fun for this year; it's time for me to get out."

Leorio snarled and pulled his fist back.

"Leorio, stop." Kurapika's voice cut through the air.

Leorio's head snapped towards the blonde. "But—"

"They want us to waste our time fighting amongst ourselves," Kurapika added, beckoning at the prisoners on the opposite side of the room with his head. "Are you going to let them have their way?"

Leorio looked down at Tonpa

"You know," Killlua started.

Everybody turned to Killua.

"If their goal is to buy time, the old man did the right thing." Killua shifted his weight to his other foot. He then continued nonchalantly, "That bald guy is probably a former soldier or mercenary. If the old man had fought him, Baldie would have started by crushing the old man's throat so he couldn't say 'I give up'. Then he would have tortured him without killing you for the rest of the remaining time…"

Huh. Asterra hadn't thought of that.

Tonpa, who had gone white as a sheet after hearing Killua's words, turned back to Leorio. "I-I also took that into c-consideration…" Tonpa trailed off as beads of nervous perspiration trickled down his face.

"You okay, Tonpa? You look a little pale," Asterra noted. Tonpa looked over to the Resca to see a small smirk on her lips. "I thought this was fun for you."

=o=o=o=

"Well, that plan got fucked up," Bendot muttered, crossing his arms and leaning against a wall.

"Don't worry," a voice said as another prisoner walked forward. A pair of shackles fell to the floor from his wrists with a clang. "We just have to defeat three more people and the result will still be the same."

"Better win the next match then, Sedokan."

The prisoner took his cloak. "Don't worry; I will."

=o=o=o=

Leorio let go of Tonpa and the older applicant walked over to a wall and leaned against it.

"So, who's going next?" Killua asked.

"Me!" Gon's hand shot up into the air. "I'll go!"

"You sure?" Leorio asked.

"Uh-huh!" Gon nodded.

The applicants looked towards the island.

"The next opponent doesn't look like the type for physical fights," Killua observed as the next opponent—a gaunt young man with a mop of dark hair that also covered his left eye—walked across the bridge.

"Don't underestimate him," Asterra warned. "He's in this tower for a reason."

"I know," Gon said a bit too cheerfully as he put his bag down and walked to the island.

* * *

**Resca Culture 101—Anatomy**

**I guess anatomy technically isn't a part of culture, but I figured it'd be good to write all of this out. It'll explain why the Resca are known for their inborn durability and strength (as mentioned by Hisoka in "Deceit and Trials, Part II).**

… **It'll also reveal the extremely geeky side of me that loves incorporating science into writing. But never mind that ;)**

**Note:**

**Keep in mind that strength and durability are relative. If you compare a Resca and non-Resca of the same gender, age, and build, 95% of the time the Resca is going to be stronger, more durable, and also heavier than the non-Resca. But if you compare a middle-aged, male non-Resca to a 10 year-old female Resca, the same can't be said for sure. The Resca are not superhumans, after all; they're just a different ethnic group with certain genes inclusive to them.**

**Bone composition:**

**Bones, like many things in the body, are made up of cells. In between these bone cells there's a space-filling substance called a matrix. This matrix is made up of organic materials (e.g. protein) and inorganic materials (e.g. calcium). The matrix of Resca bones contain higher amounts of metals (e.g. iron, tin) and semi-metals (ie silicon) than non-Resca bones. These metals give the Resca high-density bone, which in turn gives them the toughness they're known for. It also makes them heavier and less agile than normal humans, but Resca make up for this by going through intense speed and agility drills during Training.**

**Generally, clan members have different bone compositions—for example, Resca A could have tin and silicon in their bones while Resca B has iron and copper in their bones. They could also have different amounts of each type of metal.**

**The origins of this anatomical feature are unknown. But it is thought to be controlled by genetic factors, based on two trends: 1) members of the same family tend to have similar bone compositions and 2) half-Resca children (1 Resca parent, 1 non-Resca parent) have a lower metal content than full-blooded Resca children (2 Resca parents).**

**Muscles and Strength:**

**Because Resca have had to haul around a heavy body since birth, they tend to be stronger than non-Resca of the similar gender, age, and build.**

**This difference in strength does have an impact on culture: many Resca-made objects are rather heavy for non-Resca. It's kind of like the house on the Zoldyck estate where Zebro and Seaquant live, except not as extreme. Also, the Resca don't make their objects heavy with the purpose of strength training in mind—it just happens naturally.**

**Phew…that was one heck of an info dump. I tried to keep it as simple and concise as possible, but it still ended up being that long ( -_-') Hopefully I didn't scare anyone away and hopefully it makes sense. Please feel free to PM me if you have questions about what I wrote.**

**As always, thanks for reading to the end :)**

**-Rhyss**


	16. Fire, Fraud, and Fury

**Hoo boy, it's been a while, hasn't it?**

**Enjoy the chapter.**

As soon as Gon and Sedokan were on the square island, the metal paths contracted back into their respective ledges.

Sedokan spoke first. His voice was quiet, so quiet that the people on the ledges had to focus in order to hear what he was saying. "Now, as you can see I'm not one for physical fights," he stated, putting one thin hand to his chest. "I really don't enjoy fistfights or other physical activities such as running and jumping."

"But I do," Gon replied, bouncing slightly on his feet. "I'm not too good at using my head."

"That's what I thought. So I came up with a simple game we could both play."

"A game?"

"Yes—one that doesn't rely on either mental or physical activity."

Asterra frowned.

Leorio crossed his arms. "Is that even possible?"

"What kind of game?" Gon asked.

Sedokan chuckled softly then reached behind himself. After a few moments his hands reappeared with a white wax candle in each. "We each light a candle at the same time. The one whose candle goes out first is the loser."

"…Well you don't need brains or brawns for that," Kikiri muttered. "All you need is luck."

Sedokan cocked his head. "What do you think?"

Gon nodded. "I like it—it's easy to understand." He gave a thumbs-up. "Let's go with that."

"Okay. In that case…" Sedokan shifted his grip to reveal that one hand held a long candle and the other a short one. "Decide which candle you want to use." A faint smile appeared on his face upon seeing the applicants' bewilderment. "You'll determine this via majority rule; press O for the long one, X for the short one."

"Choose one of them…?" Leorio echoed. "Now there's an obvious trap! Normally, you'd choose the long one. So he must have done something to the long one!"

"That would be what you normally assume," Kurapika nodded. "But there's a chance that he took that into consideration and actually tampered with the short one."

"But if you put it like that…"

"Yep," Asterra replied. "There's no end to this." The Resca felt like she was at that map-board back in Dolle Harbor again, debating whether to go to the buses or to the cedar tree.

"You've got a real dilemma there," Tonpa smirked.

"Shut your mouth, Tonpa!" Leorio snapped.

"Yeah, yeah," Tonpa shrugged. "No need to bite my head off."

Kurapika crossed his arms. "It's as Tonpa says—we do have a real dilemma on our hands."

Sedokan sat down cross-legged, setting the two candles behind him. His back was curled in a relaxed posture. "Go ahead, discuss to your heart's content," he smiled. "We have plenty of time."

" _We" as in you guys,_ Asterra thought dryly.

Gon turned back to his groupmates. "Hey, which one should I choose?" he asked in his usual cheerful tone, seemingly oblivious to the dilemma he was in.

"Damn," Leorio muttered. "Which one should we take?"

Silence filled the room as each applicant thought of which candle to take. But before anybody could say their answer, Kurapika yelled, "Gon, you choose! We'll abide by your decision!"

All the applicants looked to the blonde.

"You sure about this?" Killua asked. "He's not the type to think things through."

"Rather than wasting time debating over what to do, let's rely on Gon's instincts," Kurapika replied.

"Instincts, huh…" Killua mused.

"So I get to choose?" Gon asked. He turned towards Sedokan "Okay then. I choose the long one!"

"The long one?" Sedokan asked. "Why?"

"Because a longer candle will burn a longer time!"

Everybody slumped forward a little.

"He's taking it face value?" Leorio asked incredulously.

"I knew he wouldn't think this through," Killua muttered.

"That's Gon for you,"Asterra said.

"Well, no changing it now," Kurapika said and pressed the o button.

Leorio pushed the o button. "It's not like we can figure out which one is the trap, anyway."

The rest of the members pushed the circle button on their watches. There was an electronic trilling sound and "O:7—X:0" appeared in yellow on a large black board anchored to a wall to the right of the island.

Sedokan picked up the candles behind him and stood up. "Here you go." The prisoner tossed the long candle and Gon caught it.

There was a creak and the torches at the corners of the island were lowered. Each of the two people on the island walked toward

"Now, we'll light our candles together," Sedokan said. Both put their candle wick in the fire to light it and walked back to where they had been standing before.

Killua glanced down at the watch. "How long would it take for that candle to burn down?"

"Probably five or six hours," Kurapika replied.

"Great," Asterra muttered, thinking of ways she could keep herself entertained while waiting for one of the candles to go out.

That was when a gust of wind shot up from underneath—one strong enough to blow out a fragile candle flame. Each person on the island curled his body around the candle to shield it from the wind.

"Whoa, that was close," Gon said as he moved his hand to protect the flickering flame.

Leorio looked downwards as the wind continued to blow throughout the room. "A strong wind's blowing from below…that's gonna make it impossible to lower their guard."

"Looks like this is a test of concentration as well," Asterra mused.

At that point Gon's head began to bob up and down as he regularly glanced up from his candle to check on Sedokan.

The prisoner chuckled softly at the boy's wariness. "If you don't pay attention, your candle will go out."

"I'm doing this to keep an eye on you," Gon replied in a matter-of-fact way. "I'm sure you're going to do something. Otherwise, that one'll burn out first."

 _Huh, so he's not completely naïve,_ Asterra thought.

"Oh don't worry, I won't do anything," Sedokan replied, then grinned. "Since I already have."

At that moment there was a wooshing sound and the flame on Gon's candle swelled in size. The dark-haired boy yelped in surprise and thrust the violently burning flame away from himself.

"See what I mean?" Sedokan smirked.

"The flame!" Kikiri exclaimed. "How…?!"

"He must have hidden gunpowder or some other flammable material inside the candle to make it burn faster!" Kurapika hypothesized.

Within a few moments fat droplets of hot wax were dripping from the candle near Gon's feet. "Ouch ouch ouch!" Gon hissed as he passed the rapidly shrinking candle from one hand to the other.

"Tch." Killua clicked his tongue. "At this rate his candle's only going to last another two or three minutes."

"Hey, that's dirty!" Leorio hollered across the room, then he growled, "I knew he had messed with the longer candle beforehand."

 _Beforehand..._ Asterra bit the inside of her bottom lip. _No, that doesn't make sense. Too risky._

From Lippo's and Bendot's words, Asterra had concluded there were two ways the prisoners could alleviate their sentences. The first one was aggressive: they could fight to win so that they could get four victories and automatically get 72 years off their sentences. The second one was conservative: they could fight to use up as much time as possible so they could guarantee getting _x_ number of years off their sentences, even if they didn't win four matches.

She glanced up at the island. From the way this candle game was going, this prisoner was fighting to win; so naturally he would try to minimize the possibility of losing. But if the prisoner had tampered with one of the candle _before_ Gon chose one to use, he could have ended up with the tampered candle. It was an action that increased the probability of losing and therefore was the least likely to happen.

Then how had Gon managed to get the tampered candle?

The Resca replayed the face-off in her head and one image stood out in her mind: one where the prisoner had put the candles behind his back, where they couldn't see them. Her eyes widened. "Maybe not," she said to herself.

"What?" Leorio asked.

"That prisoner…"—she beckoned at the island with her chin—"when he sat down, he put the candles behind him so we couldn't see them. Then he pulled them back out from behind him to start the game. It's possible that both candles were fine at the beginning but then when we decided which candle to use, he tampered with that candle behind his back and gave it to Gon."

"In that short of a time period?" Killua asked. "Isn't that unrealistic, Goldfish Girl?"

Asterra ground her molars at the last two words.

"Maybe he's got quick fingers," Kikiri butt in.

The Resca looked to the silver-haired boy and asked in a coldly aggressive tone, "What are your thoughts, then?"

Killua put his hands in the pockets of his shorts. "I think he had a couple of candles on hand—some tampered, some not—and then he just switched them around to give the tampered one to Gon."

The Resca considered the scenario Killua had presented for a few moments, rocking back and forth on her heels as she did so. "That…could work," she nodded reluctantly. _Actually, that makes more sense than my guess._ She scowled at the thought, miffed by the fact that Killua, of all people, had been the one to mention that idea. _Dammit._ She kicked a piece of rubble and watched it go flying over the ledge.

"What's he doing now?" Leorio's surprised words drew the peeved applicant back to Gon's fight.

Gon was bending down to place the candle on the floor. "If the fire's stronger"—he placed the candle on the tiles—"then a little breeze won't extinguish it."

That was true, but what did he plan to do with that fact?

Asterra blinked and when she opened her eyes Gon was pivoting on his left foot. Another step later he was sprinting across the island, right at his opponent.

 _Holy—he's fast!_ The Resca thought in alarm.

Sedokan's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as Gon skidded to a stop in front of him. The dark-haired boy then leaned forward and before Sedokan had a chance to react, blew out a puff of air that extinguished the fragile flame easily.

The prisoner's eyes got even bigger as he realized what had happened, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

Gon looked back to his own candle, which was still burning strongly, then made a peace sign and grinned at Sedokan. "I win!"

Sedokan bit his lip in defeat.

"Yes!" Leorio smiled, as did all of the other applicants except for Tonpa.

There was a beeping sound as a yellow number one appeared on the black board above the applicant's side. The paths were extended again.

"Yay, I won!" Gon grinned as he crossed the path with a bounce in his step.

"Nice one, Gon!" Leorio praised as Gon stepped onto the ledge. "Now we have a win! Once Kurapika, Asterra, and I win, we'll be able to advance."

"Don't underestimate the enemy, Leorio," Asterra warned.

=o=o=o=

Sedokan crossed back to the prisoners' ledge.

"Idiot."

The gaunt man ignored the hurled insult and continued to walk.

The same voice continued to chastise him as he sat down against the wall. "That's why you shouldn't just rely on tools and cheap tricks."

"Tch," Sedokan hissed. He had been sure that his plan was fool-proof. He thought he had camouflaged his real trick—having a tampered and non-tampered version of each candle and using sleight of hand to give his opponent the tampered one—by presenting them with the impossible two choices. He had also expected his opponent to not be able to do anything due to panic once their candle started burning quickly. But that boy had actually used the strength of the flame to give him the time to blow out his own flame.

Sedokan cursed his shortsightedness, which had cost him a victory and earned him a reprimanding from Majitani that only rubbed salt into a wound.

"You have to sacrifice a bit if you really want to fool someone." The prisoner held out his wrist as he saw the shackles start to come apart. "Just watch. I'll show you how it's done."

=o=o=o=

CLANG!

The sound of another set of shackles dropping to the floor attracted the applicants' attention. A cloaked prisoner with blue skin was walking to the island.

"Blue skin?" Kikiri asked. "How does a person get blue skin?"

Asterra shrugged. "You dye it?"

"How'd he dye it, then? Did he roll around in blueberry juice for a couple of hours?"

Asterra beckoned at the prisoner with her chin. "Why don't you ask him yourself? You're allowed to fight too, you know."

Before the Dokujo could reply Kurapika volunteered to go next and started walking to the island. "Mm, too late," Kikiri said.

As soon as both combatants were on the island the two paths retracted once again. Then the prisoner proceeded to take off his cloak.

Leorio choked.

The prisoner had blue skin and an extremely muscular body that was a foot taller than Kurapika, but that wasn't the only thing that had made Leorio choke.

The prisoner's head was also an absolute mess.

There was nothing natural left of his face, save for his eyes, mouth, and tufts of green-black hair. Only a couple of crooked teeth remained in his mouth; two gold, circular studs were embedded in the skin near his lips, one for each corner of his mouth. A ring of pinkish-purple surrounded his left eye, reminiscent of a permanent bruise. His nose was completely gone, leaving just the nasal cavity (which didn't seem infected, much to Asterra's surprise). Stitches extended from his receding hairline, passed on either side of his eye, and stretched back to his ear. One ear was irregular in shape—the cartilage of the outer ear that was usually whole was jagged and misshapen as if it had been mutilated by hole-punchers. As for his other ear…well, she couldn't tell if there even was another ear because a conical metal piece covered the side of his head.

The Frankenstein laughed loudly, filling the room with an obnoxious sound. "I'm next!"

"What a freaky body…" Leorio trailed off, eyes wide.

"His face looks pretty freaky too," Killua added.

"I wonder how much it cost to get all of that done…" Asterra mused.

Leorio looked at her like she was crazy.

The Resca noticed his look and continued, "What? He couldn't have been born like that."

"You never know," Kikiri muttered.

"Look at this." The blue prisoner pointed to his left pectoral, which had small red hearts in rows on it. "To this day, I've killed nineteen people; but nineteen is a really uneven number and it was starting to piss me off." He grinned. "I'm so glad I've gotten to meet number twenty."

Kurapika didn't move or change his expression at the blue Frankenstein's words.

"Great, now we have a serial killer," Leorio grimaced.

"I insist that we put our lives on the line. I won't accept some half-assed contest. I want blood! I want entrails! And I want agony!" He roared, then guffawed.

"Very well," Kurapika nodded, his voice neutral.

Frankenstein stopped guffawing. "Huh?"

"You can decide how we settle this contest. I'll agree to your choice."

The Resca cocked her head. Was Kurapika that versatile or was he just trying to save time?

"O-Oh. You've got balls," the blue Frankenstein stammered, clenching his fist. "Then I propose a death match, where we fight until one of us surrenders or dies. But don't expect me to stop when you surrender and beg for your life."

Another obnoxious laugh that grated the ears of everybody present.

 _What is this guy trying to do…?_ With all his talking it seemed like he was just trying to kill time; but from the content of his threats it sounded like he was trying to intimidate Kurapika into forfeiting the match in order to gain a win.

"Very well." Kurapika's words shot down the latter idea. He took off his tabard and threw it to the side. "I accept."

The blonde's cool reply made the prisoner stop laughing and a bewildered look appeared on his face. Was he surprised at Kurapika's calm façade?

"Hold on." Majitani put up a hand. "I forgot to mention something—no weapons allowed. We'll beat each other to death with our fists. After all, I may be an examiner but I'm still a prisoner; I'm not allowed to carry weapons."

"I see," Kurapika nodded, then took off the weapons strapped to his back and threw them to the side. "Anything else? If not, I'd like to get started."

Asterra raised an eyebrow. Any time she had seen Kurapika get ready to fight, he had drawn those wooden swords; it had made her think that he relied on them and couldn't fight as well with his hands. But from the way he had casually tossed aside the swords, apparently that wasn't the case.

"Anything else?" The Kurta asked. "If not, I'd like to get started."

"A-All right then. You better be ready to die." With that the blue Frankenstein drew in a deep breath and curled inwards. As he held his breath all the muscles of his body began grow bigger with ugly crackling sounds. _How does he do that?_ Asterra wondered as his back muscles jutted upwards, his torso muscles popped out even further, and his thighs grew until they were the size of the trunk of a small tree. It was a thought fueled by a curiosity that only the luxury of watching from the sidelines could allow.

Her current position also allowed her a second thought. Why didn't Kurapika attack? That prisoner was leaving himself wide open; if Asterra was in the Kurta's shoes she would have incapacitated the prisoner with a knee to the chin then a hammer fist to the back of the head by now.

"Hey, is Kurapika gonna be okay?" Leorio said. "This guy looks dangerous."

Perhaps; he was certainly trying to sound dangerous with all of his talk of death matches and killing Kurapika. But she felt like she was receiving mixed messages from the prisoner; although he may have looked and sounded dangerous he didn't _feel_ dangerous. This prisoner was no Hisoka or Killua; the air around him lacked the suffocating, crippling malice that could make her insides go cold.

Killua put his hands behind his head, his eyes narrowed with a boredom.

"I think he'll be fine," Gon said, arms crossed and head cocked to one side.

Asterra glanced at Gon out of curiosity.

"Why do you say that?" Leorio asked.

"Because when I look at him, I don't get the chills."

 _Guess I'm not the only one that thinks that._ The Resca turned her attention back to the island.

The tallest applicant put his hands on his hips, his face now etched with confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Killua smiled at Gon's words then turned back to the prisoner, whose body had almost doubled in width.

The prisoner looked back at Kurapika, a grin on his face. "I'll show you the ace up my sleeve!" Majitani roared and leaped up, far above Kurapika's head. Then he started to descend, faster and faster, heading right towards where Kurapika was standing. There was an enormous cracking sound as the prisoner's right fist buried itself into the stone floor. Kurapika leaped back just in time to avoid the brunt of the blow, but the force of the punch sent shards of stone hurtling across the island. The Kurta put his hands up to protect his head from the projectiles and came to a stop, leaning forward on one knee and the other foot underneath him, as the pelting of rocks subsided.

Leorio and Tonpa looked on the scene with shocked expressions and beads of perspiration trailing down their faces.

"Holy—" Tonpa gaped.

"He put a hole in the ground with his fist?!" Leorio exclaimed.

The Resca shrugged. "Doesn't matter how hard you can punch if you can't hit your target."

Tonpa looked to Asterra. "Th-That may be the case, but still…"

There was a large crumbling sound as Majitani withdrew his fist from the small crater that had formed around it and stood up. Asterra expected him to follow up with another strike aimed for Kurapika but instead the prisoner turned his back to Kurapika.

The Resca gaped at the sight. _Where the hell did this guy learn how to fight?_ First curling up and leaving himself open to attack, and now this. Asterra began to doubt if the prisoner had even fought before. She stared at the back and the black design on the right shoulder blade, thinking, _I swear, if you_ —

That thought came to a screeching halt as her mind fully registered the black design. Her eyes widened with shock. Was that what she thought it was?

Leorio recognized the marking on the prisoner's back as well. "A tattoo of a spider with twelve legs…" the young man quavered. "That's…"

"Yeah, I recognize it," Tonpa followed up, his voice quavering just as much as Leorio's. "Anyone aspiring to become a Hunter has at least heard of it. That's the symbol worn by members of that notorious band of merciless thieves—the Phantom Troupe!"

"Really?" Gon asked, looking up at Leorio.

"Yeah, definitely." Leorio nodded. "They're infamous. I've heard about them in rumors, and Kurapika told them about me too."

Kurapika had told Asterra about them as well. "What's a member of the Troupe doing here, though?" she asked, her eyes glued on Kurapika to see how he would react. The applicant hadn't moved from the position he had skidded to a stop in—he was still on one knee and completely still. "How the hell did he get caught?"

"I don't know…"

Kurapika pushed one hand against a knee and stood up, completely silent.

The prisoner turned back around to face the blonde. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" He taunted. "I'm Majitani, one of the Phantom Troupe's four kings! Consider that first strike my way of saying hello." He held up his fist. "This is your last chance to surrender. If you surrender now I'm still—"

Asterra's breath hitched and an ancient, instinctive response to threats made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Her body lowered itself into a posture that could flee or fight at a moment's notice.

Malice. Dark, bottomless malice filling the air around Kurapika, rearing its head and spreading, spreading, spreading. Asterra recoiled as it enveloped her, the tendrils shrouding her searing hot yet freezing cold at the same time. She felt the confused mess of fury and grief pulsing through them in the same way blood pulsed through fingers.

What was this?

Kurapika had struck her as a logical, stable person; he couldn't possibly be capable of emanating this malice. Yet here it was—something different from Hisoka and Killua's malice but definitely just as solid in its presence.

She gripped her left arm with her right. _Deep breaths,_ Asterra told herself, beads of perspiration trailing down her face and that lead weight starting to form in her stomach. _Come on, breathe. It's not directed at you; Kurapika won't hurt you. There's no reason to. And even if he wanted to he'd have to jump the abyss, and that's no small feat._

A hiss tickled her inner ear. "Asterra? What's wrong?" Kikiri asked.

"Don't you feel that?" she hissed back.

"Feel what?"

The Resca's head snapped to Kikiri and looked at him with bewildered eyes; then she glanced at the other applicants. It didn't look like they were being affected by the malice: Killua looked slightly more interested in what was going on than usual; Leorio and Gon looked concerned; Tonpa still looked shocked. But none of them looked terrified.

Why didn't anybody else feel anything? Howcould they _not_ feel that malice when it was so, so blatant and uncontrolled?

"Feel what?" Kikiri repeated.

The Resca bit her lip. "Never mind."

Kikiri cocked his head, a frown on his face. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered, the edges of her words sharp.

Perhaps Majitani had noticed the malice, as his next words were stammered. "Wh-What's wrong with you?"

As soon as the question ended Kurapika flitted out of sight.

Asterra blinked at his newfound speed, and by the time she opened her eyes again Kurapika had grabbed Majitani by the lower jaw and _lifted_ him up a few inches into the air.

The prisoner made unintelligible sounds, his muscles twitching in the air and eyes bulging with shock. Then the unintelligible sounds became more urgent and panicky as Kurapika's right hand balled into a fist; Majitani's squashed lips moved desperately in an attempt to get his message across.

Then the blonde's fist was arcing through the air in a hook. The fist slammed into Majitani's left cheek and the blonde let go of the prisoner's jaw, which allowed it to drag Majitani to the ground. There was a large _THUD!_ as the prisoner was pummeled into the stone tile head-first with a force that was probably large enough to knock loose what teeth remained in his mouth.

The sound of Majitani bouncing dully across the floor evoked shocked expressions and a stunned silence that lasted for a few moments before being broken by Killua whistling.

"Consider this a warning." Kurapika took a deliberate breath, and he struggled to keep his voice even. "First: a real Phantom Troupe tattoo has the member's number on the spider. Two: they don't bother counting how many they've killed. Third: never mention the Troupe again. If you do…" Kurapika turned toward the unmoving Majitani, revealing fiery eyes and a cold expression that contrasted them sharply. The malice swelled and intensified. "I'll kill you."

Applicants and prisoners alike either gaped or gulped at the sight, making a stunned silence fill the room.

"Jeez…" Tonpa breathed.

Leorio's brows furrowed. "Kurapika…"

"Well, saw that coming from a mile away," Killua mused nonchalantly.

Gon looked towards the island, concern in his eyes. "Yeah…"

The sound of stone scraping metal signaled that the path was extending. Kurapika jolted slightly, as if snapped out of a daze, and at the same time the malice began to abate. He picked up his tabard and sword and donned them as he crossed the pathway.

Asterra's back straightened as the blonde approached them.

"You okay, Kurapika?" Leorio asked.

The Kurta nodded and his tone was even. "Yes, I'm not injured."

"Is it safe for us to be near you?" Asterra asked cautiously.

Kurapika put a hand up to his face. "From the moment I saw him, I knew he was weak," he admitted with a pained expression on his face. His eyes were back to their usual grey and the malice around him had completely dissipated as well. "And I knew that tattoo was a fake. But as soon as I saw that spider, everything went red…"

"Literally," Kikiri muttered under his breath.

"Well, I can't really blame you," Leorio said, his voice sympathetic.

"Actually, to tell the truth…" Kurapika continued.

The other applicants' ears perked at the words.

"Even when I see a real spider, my personality changes and I enter a frenzy…"

All of the other applicants choked at the words, the eyes of some of them becoming wide.

"Dude…you need to tell us things like that sooner…" Leorio trailed off, his tone now fringed by nervousness.

Kurapika walked past him, farther into the tunnel until he was a good distance away from the main group of applicants, and sat down at the fringe of shadows. "But that just means that the rage in me remains as strong as ever…I suppose I should be happy." He put his head down on his knees.

 _Happy?_ Asterra begged to differ. Having that much rage pent inside couldn't possibly be good for Kurapika's psyche or his future. If he had enough rage to be worked up into a frenzy by a fake tattoo, what would happen if he saw a real one on a real member of the Troupe? Attack on sight? That would be a fine and dandy plan if Kurapika managed to become as strong as or stronger than a Troupe member and only fought against one of them at a time. But in any other situation his rage would become a liability, one that kept him from thinking straight and using tactics. One that could get him killed.

…

_Stay out of it._

Asterra bit her lip. That rage wasn't her problem—it was Kurapika's. It was his vice to deal with, to come to terms with, to bring under control. It wasn't in her place to intervene and help him; she would only fuck up somewhere along the road and make an irreparable mess of things.

"We probably should keep spiders away from Kurapika," Gon suggested.

"Definitely…" Leorio nodded, eyes on the figure that sat at the border of light and shadow.

**Well, Majitani was fun to describe. And to this day I don't know if that thing around his eye is just a bruise or muscles without any skin covering it o_O**

**So…about future updates. School's started, so my updating speed will plummet by a lot (which you've probably noticed already…). But I don't plan on letting this project just die and go to my fanfic graveyard, especially when you guys don't know why Asterra wants access to so much information :3**


	17. To Kill or not to Kill

***Peeks out from around a corner***

**Hey there; long time no see. I totally pulled a Togashi-sensei on you guys, didn't I? But I'm back.**

**So here we go, after a year of hiatus. Hope you enjoy it :)**

* * *

"All right, I'm up next!" Leorio yelled. "Toss that guy out, and send in the next one!"

A single cloaked prisoner, slighter in build than the others, stepped up to the ledge. "We can't do that," a feminine voice echoed across the space and the prisoner walked across the bridge connecting the ledge to the square battlefield. "His match hasn't been settled yet."

"What do you mean by that?"

The prisoner knelt by Majitani to study his vitals. "He's not dead; just unconscious. This was a death match—the fight doesn't end until one contestant surrenders or dies." The cloaked prisoner stood up. "He's still alive, and he hasn't surrendered. Therefore, the match isn't settled yet."

Leorio crossed his arms. "Tch; damn technicalities!"

"She's right, though," Asterra said.

Gon nodded. "I agree."

The tall applicant's shoulders scrunched up. "Oh, is that so?" Leorio turned to Kurapika. "Kurapika, go finish off that worthless piece of trash."

The blonde made no movement. "I refuse."

"Huh?! Why?" Leorio's body language exhibited as much disbelief and shock as his voice.

"The fight was over," the Kurta answered coolly. "Back there, I hit a person who had lost his will to fight."

"And?" Asterra shrugged. "What's the issue with making sure somebody stays down?"

Kurapika turned toward her, slate-colored eyes widening with incredulity. "The _ethical_ issue of hitting somebody that means you no ill will anymore isn't enough for you?"

"No." She put her hands in her jacket pockets. "For all you know, he could have been acting again. I see nothing wrong with making sure he doesn't attack you the moment you turn your back on him."

"The 'all is fair' type, I see." His voice was cold and dry. Kurapika looked back to Leorio. "Regardless, I have no intention of doing something disgraceful as fighting somebody that has already lost."

"Are you shitting me?!" Leorio exclaimed. He pointed his finger angrily at the prisoners. "In case you haven't been listening, they're saying that the match hasn't ended!"

Kurapika's tone of voice didn't change and he merely beckoned at the blue prisoner with his head. "I'll leave it up to him."

"Huh?"

"Once he wakes up, we'll have our answer."

"We can't afford to just sit and wait!"

Irritation coated Kurapika's voice, sharpening its edge and causing it to crescendo. His patience was wearing thin. "I have no intention of killing him."

"Oh for crying out loud…!"

"Hey."

The group turned to Killua, who had stepped closer to the blonde. "If you don't want to dirty your hands, I'll do it."

"Killua?" Gon asked.

"You haven't ever killed anyone before, right?" The question made Kurapika look down at his knees, and the silver-haired boy didn't abate his line of questioning. "You scared?"

Asterra glanced at the boy who had asked the question, a day-old memory flashing making a chill run down her spine. Killua had asked that in an alarmingly casual tone, as if he were asking Kurapika if the blonde was afraid of getting on a horse.

"I have never considered whether or not murder is frightening," the Kurta replied. The edge to his voice was still present, although to Kurapika's credit his calm did a good job of muting the irritation. The use of logic in his argument made him seem composed as well. "But this is a one-vs-one battle. You aren't permitted to interfere."

"I guess so…" Killua trailed off, shoulders scrunching in. He then straightened and his voice took on a chiding tone. "But still, we're working as a team so you can't say too many selfish things."

"Hey, you do say some useful things sometimes!" Leorio said in an effort to encourage the boy, then turned to Kurapika. "Don't you understand that you're screwing up our chances?"

Kurapika's answer was nonchalant. "I apologize, but your half-hearted attempt at pathos isn't going to change my mind."

The words only invited a snarled response from Leorio. "Why you stubborn son of a"—he shoved his face in front of Kurapika's, butting heads with the teen not only figuratively but literally as well—"Fine then!" the tall applicant stood up. "We'll determine this by majority rule! O to kill him, X to not kill him!"

The Resca's eyes widened at his choice of words. "Oi!" Her back left the wall as she took a step towards Leorio. "Do you realize what you're asking Kurapika to do?"

The applicant ignored her as he counted down instead. "Ready…set…GO!" and pressed down on a button on his watch. Tonpa smirked.

But there was no response from the digital display board; no beep, no lights…nothing. Which of course made Leorio's temper erupt. "Why the hell doesn't it turn on?!"

"Maybe it's because we're asking the question?" Gon suggested.

"Huh?"

"The watches only work for questions presented by the examiners," Killua followed.

Leorio grumbled, the sound pure with resignation. "I see…then we'll use a show of hands!" Leorio said. "Those in favor of finishing him off!" The tall applicant raised his hand, straight and proud, into the air.

…

Nobody else moved. The only thing that met Leorio was four pairs of eyes looking at him with emotions ranging from "Seriously?" to "What are you doing?"

"You traitor! Weren't you just lecturing Kurapika with me?! You're the one that pointed out that we needed to work as a team!"

Killua looked back at Kurapika. "But it's pointless! He's not gonna change his mind."

Leorio straightened and faced the dark-haired boy. "Hey, Gon! Why are you against it?"

"Because Kurapika's right—that Majitani person was on the verge of surrendering," the dark-haired boy replied. "Let's wait for him to wake up."

"But we don't know when he'll wake up." Leorio crossed his arms and looked at the prostrate Majitani. He looked towards Asterra hopefully.

"I understand your position but I don't agree with it. You're asking Kurapika to kill someone, and that's not a suggestion you should throw around lightly."

Leorio ground his teeth.

"You shouldn't force others to do things," Tonpa added. "Different people have different circumstances and ideals."

"No one asked your opinion." The reply was curt; tight lines around the youth's mouth gave away the reality that dealing with his teammates was beginning more trouble than it was worth for Leorio.

"Hey now, a majority ruling implies that you're asking everyone's opinion," Tonpa protested.

Leorio inhaled sharply. "You know what?! Fine! Do whatever you want!" He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and squatted by the bars, as far away from the rest of the teammates as possible. "Man, what's wrong with these people…?"

"Now he's sulking…" Gon said.

"They've all got their heads in the clouds…none of this matters if we can't even progress…Do they even realize the situation they're in?" Leorio continued to mutter darkly.

"Hey—we can hear you," Asterra said into the darkness. "If you're going to talk crap about us, do it more quietly."

"Let him get it off his chest." Kurapika said. "It'll help him relieve stress."

=o=o=o=

Tonpa found himself hiding a smirk at the current situation.

These five were such rookies—they'd fallen for the trap of the majority decision.

Majority rule gave the impression that everybody's opinion revered. But the impression was only an impression and it was nothing else in reality. But in reality, majority rule was something entirely different—it was a way of suppressing the minority. Have one person consistently being the minority, consistently having his/her opinion rejected…the alienation would ignite anger. And further feeding would cause the anger to blow up into the hostility that would lead to a schism in the team.

Not that it was a difficult thing to do; they were rivals in this Hunter Exam, after all. None of them would just stand by and watch as their chances were hurt by someone else's mistakes. And Leorio, by getting caught up in his emotions and using majority decision in unrelated situations, was catalyzing the formation of the rift. He had even used majority decision in its worst form, a public show of hands, in which the minority could be easily identified. Without the shield of anonymity, the minority could easily be singled out and have their opinions pushed to the side. Continued rejection of their opinion would also lead to the formation of the schism.

The rookie-breaker smirked. He didn't even had to act; all he had to do was wait.

=o=

"The other side sure looks gloomy," Sedokan noted.

The hooded female chuckled. "Good. All the easier to beat them."

The prisoner looked at the female prisoner and shook his head. Everybody that had ended up incarcerated in this tower had their own brand of cruelty; that was a given. But sometimes he felt like Leroute's brand was particularly cruel, in stark contrast to the crimes she had been charged with—illegal gambling and trafficking of endangered animals.

=o=o=o=

Leorio glanced at his watch that read 60:57:02 and clicked his tongue. Never before had he felt the ticking of the clock so keenly.

Kurapika, Tonpa, and Asterra sat against the wall. From the way the Resca had brought her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead and how her shoulders rose and fell slowly, it was apparent that she was fast asleep. Kikiri was curled up at her feet, awake for once. His tufted, lynx-like ears pricked at the ambient sounds and dark eyes continuously scanned the area. Gon stood at the edge of the ledge, bister eyes studying the body in the square intently.

Killua got up as well. "Something wrong, Gon?"

Gon nodded and pointed at the unconscious Majitani.

Killua's eyes narrowed, then widened. "I see." The boy then walked over to Leorio, who was laying down on the floor with his hands behind his head. "Hey."

Leorio cracked open an eye.

"It's possible he's already dead."

"What?" Leorio exclaimed, shooting up.

"It's been a couple hours and he hasn't moved an inch," Gon added.

Leorio ran over to the edge and the others, sans Asterra, followed him to the ledge. Kikiri scratched at Asterra's calf and the Resca's head rose reluctantly, eyes bleary and half-lidded. A brief shake of the head cleared the clouds of drowsiness that hung like cobwebs in her mind.

"Damn, it's too far away for us to tell." Leorio hissed as Asterra rejoined the group and took on the "at ease" position. Then he cupped his hands in on either side of his mouth and yelled, "Hey! Let us check that guy's body! I wanna know if he's still alive!"

"What's that?" the female prisoner from before asked.

"He could already be dead."

"I already told you, he's only unconscious."

"Oh yeah? How many hours do you think it's been?! I can't just take your word for it!"

"Then let's make a bet."

Asterra frowned.

"A bet?" Leorio repeated. "A bet on what?"

"On whether he's dead or alive." The prisoner's voice sounded smug.

"And exactly what are we gonna wager—cash?"

"That would be impossible, since prisoners aren't allowed to carry cash," the prisoner replied. "No, we're going to use something we both have: time."

Well then.

"Using time as our chips, we'll settle our match by a betting game. Look at the monitor on the wall."

There was a bleep and two "50"s appeared on the monitor.

"We each get 50 hours; however, we can only wager multiples of ten. We continue placing bets until one of us has no hours left. As for what to bet on, we'll take turns. If your time gets to 0, the amount of time you have to get out will be shortened by 50 hours."

"And if you end up with 0 hours?" Leorio asked.

"Our sentences will be extended by fifty years. If you're willing to abide by these rules, I'll let you check him."

"Damn, this chick is crazy," Leorio muttered. "She's willing to risk extending her own sentence."

"She must be confident that she can win, then," Asterra remarked.

"Answer carefully, Leorio." Kurapika said. "If you lose, we'll have 50 fewer hours to escape the tower."

"Look who's talking!" Leorio snapped back. "We got into this mess in the first place because you didn't finish him off!"

The Kurta merely crossed his arms in response. "Fine then! I won't say another word!"

Asterra facepalmed. _These two and their egos._

"Hey, we shouldn't fight amongst ourselves!"

"I accept!" Leorio pointed at Leroute.

"Okay; I chose our first bet, so you can decide how many hours we'll wager on whether he's alive or dead."

Leorio thought for a moment, then replied, "10 hours on that he's alive."

Asterra blinked at the cautious yet intelligent bet. If his bet was wrong, he would lose ten hours. But if he were right, he would give closure to Kurapika's fight and give them a win in addition to winning ten hours.

"You're being careful," Kurapika said.

"I thought you weren't going to say anything," Leorio smirked, and Kurapika shot him an angry glance.

The prisoner gestured at the prisoner. "All right then. Go check him."

Leorio grabbed the blue figure by the shoulder and turned him over. He then kneeled by Majitani, placing his index and middle finger under his jawline. A steady pulse thumped against his fingers.

"See, he's alive."

The monitor turned to 40-60, in their favor.

"Leorio has the lead!" Gon cheered. But in the next moment the boy's cheers were dimmed by a remark from Killua.

"This is bad," the silver-haired boy remarked. "It's possible he isn't going to wake up."

"What do you mean?" Kurapika asked.

"Remember that women who walked near the guy on the floor?" Killua asked. "I thought he was already dead at that point, but on second thought, it'd be more advantageous for them if he just remained unconscious. If he doesn't wake up before the test ends, they get 72 hours off their sentences."

In the arena, Leorio used his fingers to pry open an eyelid and study the eye movements.

So in the end they were depending on their conservative method of winning. "They meant to do this all along," Asterra said.

"Well, it's your turn," the prisoner said. "Decide what we'll bet on."

"Let's see…" Leorio paused, then pointed at the prostrate Majitani. "How about we bet on whether he's truly unconscious?"

"Very well; I bet 20 hours that he really is unconscious. But how do you plan on confirming whether or not he's really unconscious?"

Leorio knelt down and slung one massive arm around his shoulders. "That's simple." He half-dragged Majitani to the edge then held him by the shoulder so he leaned slightly over the edge. "I'll just toss him off the edge."

Asterra blinked at his words, then a smile tweaked the edge of her mouth at the pragmatic solution.

"If he's actually conscious, he'll fall to his death," Leorio continued.

"Are you insane?" the prisoner asked. "His match hasn't been settled yet; I can't accept that method of confirmation."

"Don't worry," Leorio smirked. "If he falls to his death, we'll forfeit the match. That'll give you two wins. Sound good?"

…

"Yes, it does." The prisoner's tone steeled. "But if that's the case I'm changing my bet—I bet 40 hours that he isn't unconscious."

"Finally showing your true colors eh, little sneak?" Leorio turned to Majitani. The room went silent as all prisoners focused their attention on the main spectacle that starred the examiner and examinee. "Then here we go."

Leorio's hand separated from Majitani's shoulder.

For a moment, Majitani floated in place, teetering on the edge like the plane of a seesaw on its fulcrum. But then that scene of tranquility was broken; the blue man's eyes snapped open and he began to flounder and cry out. Muscular arms pinwheeled furiously, fighting a losing battle for balance. "I'm awake I'm awake I'M AWAKE!"

But the battle had been lost by that point and he tipped backwards. However before he could plummet headfirst into the abyss, Leorio caught him by the wrist. "Morning, sleeping beauty." With that he yanked on Majitani's wrist, causing the prisoner to stumble forward and crash into the ground.

The prisoner shot up to his feet. "You people are fucking crazy!" He screamed. "I've had enough of this bullshit! I'll take the loss!" With that he almost sprinted across the bridge to get to the prisoner side of the room. "Forget the sentence reduction; it's safer in the slammer!"

The petulant words made Asterra chuckle softly.

"Yes!" Gon cheered as the tall applicant made his way back to the center of the square. "Go Leorio!"

"You knew he was awake, didn't you?" the female asked.

"I might not look like much, but I'm studying to become a doctor," Leorio replied. "All I had to do was check his eye movement."

The monitor changed to 80-20, in favor of the examiners—something the prisoner did not hesitate to call him out on. "But now you're down to 20 hours."

"But now we have a 2-1 lead." Leorio pointed his finger at the prisoner. "Now it's your turn—decide. What're you going to ask next?"


	18. Chapter 18

**Hi guys. As always, hope you enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

The prisoner stood calmly, arms in front of her.

"What, cat got your tongue after I figured out your little plan?"

There was a large clang as the chains fell to the floor and Leroute let out a chuckle. "No, not really." The prisoner then pulled the head covering off her head, first revealing a shock of wavy magenta hair pulled into two pigtails by yellow ribbon. Then came a heart-shaped face of a woman in her mid-to late-twenties, set upon a slender neck that fit her slight build.

 _She's held up well_ , Asterra noted matter-of-factly. The prisoner reminded the Resca of the women who appeared on magazine covers, much to her confusion. According to the stories she had heard, prison broke people. It was a place where those incarcerated were carved them into something infinitely nastier than what they had been before, physically and mentally. But this person looked model-worthy, even now.

"I have a bad feeling about this…" Kurapika trailed off.

"Yeah…that old man's probably dancing on the inside," Killua snarked.

"Then let's bet on whether I'm a man or a woman," the prisoner suggested.

There were gasps of surprise from the applicants' side.

"Wait…isn't she a lady?" Gon asked, confusion in his voice.

Kikiri poked his head out of Asterra's hood. "Either that or he's one unlucky guy."

"Transvestite?" Tonpa offered.

"What's wrong?" Leroute asked. "Is there a problem?"

"No," he replied slowly. "But how will you prove it if I'm wrong?"

"Hmm…well, after you give your answer I'll let you examine every part of my body." She put her fingertips on her sternum daintily, angling her body in a rather suggestive manner. A devious light shined in her cat-like purple eyes. "Until you're _fully_ satisfied."

Asterra facepalmed.

"Huh?" Gon asked. "What's wrong?"

"Leorio's going to bet she's a man," the Kurta replied in her stead.

The statement became reality in the next moment as Leorio declared, "I bet ten hours that you're a man!"

Asterra found it hard to believe that this was the applicant who had pulled a pretty shrewd move a few minutes back. _Damn hormones,_ she thought.

"How did you guys know?" Gon asked earnestly.

He really didn't know. He _really_ didn't know. Asterra found herself staring at the boy with a "Really?" expression on her face. Then again, maybe a kid his age shouldn't know about _those_ kinds of things.

Killua blew that thought out of the water by showing that he knew Leorio's line of reasoning well enough to explain it to Gon.

"So, what are you?" Leorio asked.

The prisoner cocked her head. "Too bad…I'm a woman."

"Really?"

The prisoner brought her finger to her lips and the cadence of her voice shifted into something sultry. "Would you like to check?"

"Does the pope wear a funny hat?!"

She sighed softly in exasperation at the words. _Get a room._ But that seemed to be out of the question, since the two were in the middle of an arena with no walls whatsoever.

But She'd stumbled across Trainees kissing rather…eagerly in the woods more than a few times in the last year, after all. They were sights she could have definitely done without, but it wasn't like the experiences had traumatized her either. At least this time she wasn't completely by surprise and was given time to avert her eyes.

=o=o=o=

Approximately three minutes later Leorio walked away from Leroute, a suspiciously too-satisfied look on his face betraying the fact that he did not regret his decision of thinking with his hormones at all.

"Well, looks like he's had his fill," Killua said dryly.

"That hurt just watching it," Kurapika muttered.

Asterra rolled her shoulders. "Maybe he'll be able to think straight now."

"No; he's going to lose."

The four applicants turned to Tonpa, who continued, "The opponent's seen through Leorio's strategy—he bets conservatively so that he can minimize damage from either outcome. A gambler who just focuses more on the consequences of losing won't ever win." He shook his head. "Looks to me that Leorio just doesn't have what it takes."

"Your turn to think of a gamble," Leroute reminded.

Leorio's face snapped back to reality and he looked to the monitor that now said 90-10. It was a score that symbolized the applicant's present precarious position, a declaration of the reality that the examinees were one mistake away from having 50 hours docked from their time limit.

Gon's eyes then widened with the promise of an idea. "Leorio!" The applicant turned toward the dark-haired boy who asked, "How about you ask if you're still in your teens?"

_Oh, that is a good one._

"Come on, Gon!" Leorio's response was indignant. "I don't look that old! It would be dead obvious that I'm still a teenager!"

All around the room looks of disbelief abounded—the prisoners at Leorio's real age, and the applicants at his casual dismissal of an extremely good question.

Leorio thought for a while longer, then presented his topic. "Right! We'll use rock-paper-scissors!"

Asterra's shoulders slumped slightly. _Are you shitting me?!_

"Rock-paper-scissors…?" Kurapika murmured. "Why did he have to pick such a difficult wager?"

"Is rock-paper-scissors that hard?" Gon asked.

"It is, actually," Kurapika nodded. "While the rules of the game are simple, the game itself is quite complex. If you think of it from the point of view of probability, there's only one-third a chance of losing. However, if your opponent can predict your reasoning and control your reactions, defeat becomes much more likely."

"In other words, simple-minded Leorio will be at a disadvantage," Killua followed.

"I see…" Gon trailed off.

"All right then," the prisoner nodded. "I'll put 80 hours on my victory."

"E-eighty hours?" Leorio repeated shakily, obviously flustered at her aggressive bet.

A smile tugged at the prisoner's lips. "Is something wrong?" Her voice sounded innocent, even though her intentions were far from it. "I'm free to bet as much as I want."

"That's true, but—"

"And if you lose, I can still only take ten from you."

Leroute's body language, her tone of voice…everything contributed to an aura of confidence that came off the woman in waves. It seemed to make Leorio even more skittish, from the way beads of perspiration rand down his face.

Leorio, after running through the various signs with his hand, finally turned around to face Leroute. "All right! I've made my decision."

The prisoner smiled at his words.

"What?"

"It's obvious what you'll use, since I can read minds."

"Liar!" Leorio accused. "You're bluffing won't scare me."

"You'll believe me soon enough."

"Leorio will use rock." Kurapika said.

"Let's do this!" The prisoner yelled as she pulled back her hand, startling Leorio out of his thoughts. The applicant floundered, his movements stuttering out of surprise.

Asterra's eyes narrowed at the prisoner's actions, the way she had taken the upper hand in the situation by being the person to call out the chant. _Leorio's completely caught up in her pace. Everything's going the way_ _ **she**_ _wants it to go…_

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!" the prisoner chanted.

The two thrust out their hands, each clenched in a rock.

"Good guess, Kurapika," Gon said.

"Nervous people unconsciously avoid any action that involves opening up. In other words, by making Leorio uncomfortable, she ensures that he's less likely to use paper."

Leorio was quick to use the outcome in an argument. "Wait a minute, we just had a tie—you were lying about being able to read my mind! You would have won if you could!"

At his words the prisoner giggled. "I deliberately gave you that tie."

"Quit lying!"

"Did you forget? We're trying to stall here too. If I chose to, I could force an indefinite series of draws…but that wouldn't be any fun now, would it?" The woman's eyes narrowed, her face taking on an expression that made Asterra's hackles rise. "So I'll end this with the next turn."

Leorio grit his teeth, beads of perspiration trailing down his face.

It was clear that this woman's preferred _modus operandi_ was psychological manipulation. Despite the fact that she was a prisoner—an enemy—Asterra couldn't help but admire the woman's ability to run circles around Leorio and manipulate him like putty with only her words. _I should take notes._

"Well? What will you use next? Choose wisely…"

Kurapika's voice continued explaining in a clinical tone. "When someone loses confidence, they crave reassurance. That makes him more likely to either use the same hand, or, in an effort to regain his confidence, use a hand stronger than the one in the previous round."

"So that woman wants Leorio to choose rock or paper," Killua said.

Kurapika nodded. "That way, if she uses paper she won't lose."

Gon's reply to Kurapika's comment was bright and chirpy. "Then Leorio just needs to stay a step ahead."

"Leorio doesn't look like he's in the right mental state to think ahead," Asterra noted, taking in how Leorio's body had contorted itself into the position that absolutely screamed insecurity—he had curled inwards, as if protecting his vital organs, and his hands came to either side of his head.

However Gon refused to let his optimism and faith in Leorio be diminished. "Leorio! If you use scissors you can win!" Gon yelled.

Leorio looked towards Leroute who replied, "Well, why don't you give it a try then?"

Leorio felt silent, and Asterra could almost see the steam coming out of his ears from all the concentrating he was doing. And then suddenly he yelled, "Fuck! I don't even know anymore!"

Upon the outburst a smile appeared on Leroute's face and she started to count again. "Here we go!" The chant sounded similar to that of a cheerleader. "Rock, paper, scissors—"

Leorio hastily moved his arm.

"Shoot!"

The two hands shot out and met in the middle, and the board beeped and spat out two numbers: 0 and 100.

Leroute squealed with delight at the fact that her paper had been met by rock. "I win!" She twirled away from her opponent, slender arms spread out wide and elation written clearly on her face. And with that, 50 hours of the applicants' time was snatched away from them and the score became 2-2.

=o=o=o=

Leorio walked back across the bridge, his whole body curled inwards and shoulder sagging. He couldn't bring his eyes to meet anyone else's; he just stared into the floor slightly ahead of him, boring holes into the stone. "Sorry about that…I'm usually better at rock-paper-scissors."

Tonpa snorted. "It wouldn't take much to top _that_ pathetic showing."

"What was that?!" Leorio's eyes flashed, but then he backed off as he realized that he didn't have a right to argue.

Asterra looked at her watch, which read 59:45:26. "We have 9 hours and 45 minutes to get out of here," she said. The words made Leorio glare at her, and she met his gaze coolly. "If you want to shoot the messenger, try it after she's fought."

=o=o=o=

Leroute skipped across the bridge, proud grin on her face and her flaring magenta pigtails flouncing with each step. One of the still-cloaked prisoners walked towards her. "Nice one, Leroute-chan!" a tenor voice cheered and the prisoner raised his hand in a high-five. "You're the best~"

The woman simply skipped around the man's high five, coming to a stop in front of the other prisoners.

The man clasped his hands over his chest, his face a look of shock. "Leroute-chan, you're so cold…" the ignored prisoner whined, and another taller cloaked prisoner patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.

"Cut it out; you're no actor." Leroute placed her hands on her hips. "Who's going next?"

The cloaked figure leaning against the wrought iron gate of their side didn't move. "Johness is last resort," Bendot said, then turned to the two prisoners still wearing their cowls. "So that leaves you two."

To his gaze the taller of the two prisoners responded, "I'll go."

"Visgo." Sedokan looked to him. "Are you okay going?"

The prisoner nodded as Lippo's signal caused the heavy handcuffs fell to the floor. He rubbed the chafed skin around his thin wrists. "Today's a good day."

"Which means what?" Majitani sneered. "You won't black out after ten seconds of standing because your cheap fortune telling said so?"

"It's not cheap fortune telling. It's my horoscope."

The prisoners' heads slumped at that.

"Visgo…hate to break it to you but newspaper horoscopes are the definition of cheap fortune telling," The shorter cloaked prisoner ventured.

Visgo ignored the prisoner's comment and instead started walking, humming a tune softly.

"He ignored me…" the shorter prisoner sounded appalled. "He ignored _me._ How could he?!"

"Oh get over yourself, Rutello." Bendot sat down and leaned against a wall. "You're not that important."

Rutello flipped him off, then harrumphed as he took a seat on the stone floor.

=o=

The applicants took stock of the thin, about six-foot-tall prisoner that walked to the middle of the square. The man stopped, then an arm riddled with scars removed the cowl that obscured his head. A haggard face was revealed; cheekbones jutted through sallow skin covered with pockmarks and more of those white scars. Brown eyes, alight with the dim embers of an old hunger, shifted left and right. Dark circles seemed to be painted under his eyes and shoulder-length, wavy dark hair screamed for a haircut.

The prisoner's overall impression was that of a man who had hit rock-bottom. From his disheveled appearance, it looked as though he was still in the process of clawing his way out of the hole.

"So he's the next opponent," Kurapika said.

"Any volunteers?" Killua asked.

"I'll take him."

* * *

**Thanks for reading to the end :) See you in the next chapter.**

**-Rhyss**


	19. Mithridatism

**Hey guys. For those of you celebrating Thanksgiving, happy Thanksgiving! Maybe this will entertain you while everything's cooking or help you digest.**

**Whatever the case may be, hope you enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

"I'll take him."

Everybody's eyes turned towards the voice that had come from Asterra's shoulder.

Everybody's eyes turned on the Dokujo. "You?" Leorio repeated.

"Yeah me. I mean, I'm a team member. I have to fight too. Besides, he doesn't look so tough." Asterra glared at Kikiri, who then followed up with, "I know, I know, looks can be deceiving. You've pounded that lesson into my brain already." The Dokujo nudged her ear. "Can you take this watch off?"

The Resca complied, and soon it was Kikiri walking across the bridge.

"Can he win?" Killua asked.

"What he lacks in strength he makes up for in creativity," Asterra replied, veneering nervousness with her usual calm.

Kikiri wasn't a one-vs-one fighter, period. It was against his species' nature to fight in a duel-like manner. The Dokujo were more suited to guerilla tactics—hit and run, evasion, poisoning—anything that would keep them from taking a direct hit, because anatomically they were fragile. However, that contrast was the key to their success as partners. Asterra's Training and genetics gave her the sturdiness to withstand punishment and serve as a distraction; Kikiri's stealth and poison made him suitable for scouting and finishing.

And now he was walking into an arena that didn't offer a square inch of cover without a source of distraction.

…

She _really_ didn't like this at all.

=o=

The man smelled wrong.

Kikiri's nose had caught the prisoner's odor the moment he had taken off his cowl. His eyes had also backed up the fact that this particular prisoner was the sick one of the group—the one who, in the wild, would be the first culled. Soft _pitter patters_ of bare feet on stone gave away the fact that the prisoner was moving forward, and Kikiri stood up onto his hind legs to look up.

The man looked down at the stoat-like creature, confusion written all across his face. Kikiri could predict the stream of questions running through the man's mind right now— _animals don't apply to be Hunters; I'm supposed to be fighting applicants. Then why is a creature standing in front of me? How should I negotiate a way to settle this?_

"Are you my opponent?" the man asked hesitantly.

"No, I'm the new therapy animal," the Dokujo drawled as he licked a paw and cleaned his face. The man's countenance took on a look of confusion in the brief silence that followed the reply, and Kikiri had an odd feeling that this man wasn't well-versed in the ways of sarcasm. So he added as a precaution, "Of course I'm here to fight."

"You…can talk?" the prisoner frowned.

"He has ears. Give the man a prize," he said acerbically.

"I thought I'd be facing a human."

"Then I'd tell your boss to revise the rules. There was a loophole." Kikiri stood on all fours and proceeded to shake out his fur. "So, what's it going to be? Just as a heads up, I can't play cards 'cause I'm a little…anatomically challenged." He held up a paw that lacked an opposable thumb.

The man cocked his head, then shrugged as if thinking, _What the hell, I've seen weirder things._ "More of a slots person myself," he laughed hollowly. "But we don't have any of those either. So how about an old-fashioned fight? To surrender or death."

"Yeesh, to the death? Again? That sure is a popular topic."

"You could always surrender."

"Mmm, I guess. But instead of death, couldn't we fight until one of us is unconscious or can't move? I mean, I like living and you can't benefit from your sentence reduction if you're dead. Plus we've already got a zero percent mortality rate; why ruin it?"

=o=

"Is that overgrown weasel actually _negotiating?_ " Leorio gaped.

"Dokujo," she corrected. "And yes, he's negotiating."

"He's using fairly good arguments as well," Kurapika mused. "Common ones, but still effective."

A proud smile lit up Asterra's face at the words. "Well, that's what happens when your parents are academics."

"Academics?" Gon cocked his head.

"Researchers," she explained. Then her eyes half-lidded and her voice took on the tone of fond reminiscence. "The dinner table was a place of eating and discussion, and they always included us."

"Where are they now?" Gon asked.

"I don't know; during Training contact with family was forbidden."

"That stopped you?" Kurapika asked dryly.

The comment elicited a bark of laughter from the Resca. "My parents are better at following rules than I am, so they didn't send me letters or anything. I phoned them before the Exam, but they were vague about where they were. I'm sure they're still writing papers and bouncing theories off of each other, though."

=o=

Visgo was at quite a loss.

He'd seen and done some downright crazy things in his life, but negotiating terms with an animal that could talk almost took first place. Almost. The man put a hand to chin and thought. The animal did have a point about being dead meant not being able to reap the benefits.

" _With Saturn direct, new opportunities will be sent your way. Your ability to take full advantage of these opportunities will be heightened as well, so be confident and don't be afraid to take risks."_

The repeating of the horoscope made assurance flow throughout him. The signs were good. Back in his days on the streets, whenever these signs had lined up, everything had worked out well.

So he took the risk.

"All right," he nodded. "Then how about we change the terms to this—we fight until one of us surrenders or is still alive and can't fight. Killing means that guy's side wins." He heard his fellow prisoners groan in exasperation but paid it no mind. He liked to think of himself as a reasonable person.

Besides, there were lots of ways to cripple living things. Being reasonable did not prevent him from being creative.

=o=

Kikiri nodded. He like the last term, the one in which killing had been downright discouraged. "Sounds good."

"Then let's start."

And in the next moment, the man's foot blurred.

Stubby legs kicked the ground, propelling Kikiri backward a few feet. A bare foot slammed into the ground he had been on before.

_He's quick. Not as quick as Gon or Asterra, but still quick._

Kikiri sidestepped again as the foot aimed for his torso. And as he somehow coaxed his stubby little legs to move fast enough to avoid the stepping, his mind whirred for a way to beat this person who was bigger than him in an arena so naked.

Kikiri knew how this fight would end—a bite lasting about 4 seconds. That would be enough poison to take him out. The problem was finding a time in which he could deliver the bite without being severely hurt himself. The solution to this dilemma was usually simple—hide, wait, and ambush the target while Asterra distracted him in her usual bear-like manner. But there was nothing to hide in and no Asterra to rely on, so he'd have to go on the offensive somehow. For now he would have to fight for time until an idea popped up into his head.

So in the meantime he listened to his gut, relying on it to tell him which way to move as to not get squashed by the man's foot. Even though the prisoner was thin he was heavy enough to snap Kikiri's spine.

_Stomp, stomp, stomp!_

Sidestep, backstep, a quick dash forward through the legs. In this manner, an odd version of whack-a-mole continued in the square arena. Kikiri would have laughed at the scene if he hadn't been the one doing the dodging.

_Stomp, patter, patter, stomp!_

A twist of the body, another sidestep. Soreness creeped into the creature's limbs and made itself more apparent with each movement. But the consequence didn't come without benefit: being chased around the arena had allowed the Dokujo to become familiar with the terrain. By the time a long two minutes had passed, he had a half-formed plan that would probably work. Something that he had come up with observation, instinct, and a healthy—perhaps too healthy—dose of optimism.

So when the prisoner chased him across the arena towards the outer edges, he didn't sidestep. He feigned exhaustion and kept walking backwards, barely avoiding blows. And when he was finally pushed back into the corner of the arena, one of the four candles only half a foot away from his hind legs, he didn't dash to the side.

No, he simply jumped backwards and fell off the edge.

=o=

Asterra blinked.

She blinked again.

But no matter how many times she blinked, Kikiri did not reappear.

 _No._ Her heart rate increased as the milder form of panic seeped into her, but she could not panic here. She could _not_ panic. Kikiri was alive—he had to be. He would pop out again.

He had to. He couldn't leave her like this.

"Did…he fall?" Leorio asked.

"It certainly looks that way," Kurapika noted, watching Asterra's still form.

The Resca began to move, her head turning left and right. She walked to the edge of the hanging indent, craning her neck to see where he was. Her actions mirrored by the prisoner as well. Visgo turned around and around, as if expecting the creature to pop out of some corner.

"Don't you dare," she whispered, struggling to keep the tone of her voice flat. "Don't you dare die on me now."

Gon continued to watch the arena intently, then narrowed his eyes as something flashed. He focused on the object.

"Come out right now or I swear I'll skin you alive," Asterra muttered again.

"Well that'll make him want to come out," Killua snorted.

Asterra felt something tapping her arm and she looked down to see Gon staring intently at something. "Look."

The Resca cocked her head then looked in the direction Gon was looking to see—

—auburn.

Auburn was curling around the prisoner's legs and torso, a continuous ribbon against the dull grey of the prisoner's outfit. The familiar sight made Asterra's face light up.

The prisoner started at the cord-like body wrapping around his body and turned his head to see Kikiri's head at the back of his shoulder, teeth sunk in. Several seconds later Kikiri let go of the man and pulled his head back. Sharp white teeth flashed. "Gotcha."

"I don't believe it," Kurapika muttered.

"You mother-….How…how did you…?" Visgo sputtered.

"See those candles? They have little ledges on the bottom, where they dig into this stone square. When you knocked me out of the ring I stretched and grabbed onto one of them. Then all I had to do was wait until you turned your back on me."

"Heh…you sneaky little rodent," Visgo shook his head.

"Dokujo."

"All right, fine. And why did you bite me?"

"Poison. It'll paralyze you."

Visgo chuckled. "So that's why you insisted on a no-kill rule—because you had poison."

Asterra tensed. The toxin should kick in soon. But the man was showing no sign of the paralysis sinking in; his speech was still normal. His shoulders moved up and down, then his body started to shake even more.

"Runt, if that's all you can do you shouldn't have negotiated for the no-kill rule. Then maybe you could have won by knocking me off the square."

His words…Something was wrong.

Something was _very_ wrong.

"Hey, shouldn't he be going down?"

Asterra nodded at Killua's words. "Toxin kicks in within the minute. Prisoner's been standing for more than that."

Kikiri must have thought the same thing, as he begun to slink back and had a confused expression on his face.

Visgo began to roll his neck. "Do you know what I'm in here for?" the question seemed to be directed at Kikiri and all the applicants. "I'm in here for possessing and dealing Red Dust."

"Red Dust?!" Leorio exclaimed.

"You know what that is?" Asterra asked.

"It's a street drug that became common about 10 years ago. It's pretty much like crystal meth but a hundred times more potent. It didn't take that much to overdose, and thousands of users died from taking it. Those who did survive…their bodies were changed for the worse, permanently."

The applicants looked at Visgo and the state of his body—painfully thin, sallow.

"But I broke the first rule for being a dealer—don't get addicted to the drug. I tried the shit once and BAM! Done for. Couldn't get enough of it. I took stupid risks; it helped me climb the ranks but landed me in the slammer. That got me clean real fast." Visgo chuckled. Asterra studied the scars all over the man's body. Now that she looked at them closely, they looked like scratch marks. Like scars a person received when they scratched a wound relentlessly rather than let it heal.

Shivers crawled up her spine. Were those self-inflicted during his withdrawal? Had the drug had that much of an iron grip on its thrall?

"But you know, there's the one plus side of being a Dust addict. You're so pickled that poison doesn't do shit anymore."

The words took a moment to sink in. But when they did, alarms went off in her head.

Shit. Shit. Shit. This changed things. This changed things _a lot_.

"Kikiri!" she yelled; the cry's cadence held all the meaning she wanted to convey.

The Dokujo didn't need the extra words; he was already moving even before she had yelled, starting to shrink back to normal size. But as he started to dash across the floor, the prisoner's foot crushed onto his spine and pinned him to the stone tile.

Small choking sounds echoed in the chamber as Kikiri clawed at air in a desperate attempt to get away. "The terms were 'until one surrenders or is alive but can't fight…' but you'll still live if I break your spine," Visgo grinned.

=o=

Kikiri opened his mouth, first in an attempt to get more air. His heart thumped painfully, desperate and flailing in his chest. He couldn't die here; he didn't want to die here. But at the same time the Dokujo didn't want to lose. Kikiri wanted to know that he could fight by himself too. To prove that he wasn't completely dependent on Asterra. To convince himself the only thing he could do was catch rabbits and squirrels and other things weaker than him.

"Kikri! Surrender!" Gon cried out.

He opened his mouth again but then a pained cry only came out as he felt his spine start to give in under the prisoner's weight. He opened his mouth.

No air rushed in.

=o=

"Looks like his negotiation backfired," Tonpa noted. "We'll be behind now."

Asterra ignored the man's comment, all stimuli except for Kikiri's plight blocked out. All that mattered now was the fact that the Dokujo was being crushed.

Yes, the outcome was going to make the score 3-2 in the prisoner's favor. But that didn't matter; in fact, Asterra was currently in a state of mind that could be described in three words—"Fuck it all." And that mental state was pushing her down a path that certainly did not benefit her or the others' chances of becoming a Hunter.

…

Like she cared.

Her mind weighed and eliminated possibilities at a speed experienced only a few times in her life. She couldn't jump; the space was too wide, even for a running jump to work. Then a ranged attack. She had no firearm, which then left her with—

Her fingers flushed against the knife in her pocket as she eyed the man now. He was currently standing in a way that left one side of his throat open to her. _**Soft flesh. Arteries and veins. Vulnerable.**_ The knife came out and her fingers coaxed out the blade. _**One hit. One strike. Blood loss, severe. Fatal. Kikiri— safe. Family—safe.**_

_**Enemy—eradicated.** _

Her breaths slowed as her eyes narrowed into an aiming gaze. Pebbles crunched beneath her foot as it shifted—

"Visgo, stop!"

=o=

Visgo's foot stopped at the sound of Rutello's voice.

"Why?"

The prisoner gestured with his chin towards the applicants.

The skinny man looked to the side of the applicants. Six sets of eyes looked back at him, although one set stood out—the one from the girl that the rodent had been with. Sea green eyes, narrowed to slits, glinted with a frigid, predatory light; a knife held loosely in her hand betrayed her previous intent.

The sight reminded him of his gang days, when he had met all sorts of colorful people. This particular look he'd seen on his boss—demons below damn that fucked-up son of a bitch. Visgo could still see it now: a man in his forties, dangerously normal-looking, raising a revolver to blow out the brains of a man who had made the gang's account go red. Red as the blood that stained the boss's shoes; red as the eyes that looked at the failure of a gang member with indifference, contempt, and a hint of crazy.

As the echoes of that revolver shot faded deeper into his head, Visgo took his foot of the rodent.

=o=

Sweet air rushed into his lungs, and with it came confusion. Why had the pressure gone away? Why was he still alive? What had happened? How—

He met eyes with Asterra and in that instant he realized what had happened. _Saved again._ Now he could feel the words in her gaze— _Surrender. I promise to get the win back._

A flash of bitterness scraped at his gut in an all-too familiar way. Could he not do anything by himself? Half of him wanted to get back up and have another go at the drug addict. But the primal part of his brain knew that it was futile and it coldly told him to give up, to let Asterra take care of it because that was the path that would keep him alive.

For a moment he continued to gasp, to give oxygen to a brain roiling with pride and instinct.

Instinct won over pride and in the next moment he was choking out words as they scalded his tongue. "I surrender."

The board beeped and the score became 3-2 in the prisoner's favor.

=o=

The orange-haired girl walked across the bridge to the stage and picked up her pet. Rutello took in the way she strode up to Visgo, the cold, focused glint in her eyes never going away as she approached him. The penknife with its blade drawn was still cradled loosely in her right hand, ready to slice ligaments with a flick of the wrist.

"Crazy chick," he muttered as the characteristics melded together into a conclusion about the girl in front of him.

Confident with knife-fighting.

Unafraid of breaking the rules even if it meant her and her groupmates failing. Little to no attachment to them, then.

Seemingly unafraid to kill, from the glint in her eyes—one he had seen many times while working among the denizens of the criminal underworld and the associated slums—like there was a loose screw in the brain's morality department that made it easier to flip the switch from human to something else. So fighting a death match was not a good idea.

And there was something else… _off_ about her. Usually, humans had this…buzz around them. But the girl in front of him totally lacked that. It was like she was cloaked in nothingness.

At first it seemed like she had no presence, but if he probed the nothingness, listened closer to the air around her, he could feel a dissonance. Like there were things fighting against each other in her. Like she was a puzzle made of pieces forced together—the pieces fit, but not comfortably, properly. Like the puzzle would reject a portion of the pieces in a heartbeat, but didn't do so because then the puzzle would not be whole anymore.

Long story short, despite the calm demeanor she wasn't at peace with herself. Not by a long shot.

A faint smile appeared on his face. He could use this. If he could find the fault in her psyche that was the cause of the dissonance and dig his fingers into it…he could win. No, he _would_ win.

And he had a good idea of where to start.

* * *

**So, first time writing in Kikiri's point of view. Because the little guy deserves some depth as well, and I've been pretty lazy with his character up to his point—basically the stereotypical snarky, lazy brother who occasionally hides behind his sister for protection and stands up for her when he can.**

**Thanks for reading to the end!**

**-Rhyss**


	20. Ghosts from the Past

**Happy New Year guys! Here's to everyone having a year that is worth remembering (in a good way. If it ends up being in a bad way...well, maybe you can look back and laugh about it).**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter of Lattices :)**

* * *

"Aaaand another loss," Tonpa sighed as Asterra returned. "Whose bright idea was it to make the rat our seventh member again?"

The Resca turned towards the rotund man, the cold fire that had burned off her patience still alight in her eyes. "And whose bright idea was it to wait our time away?"

A further exchange of venomous words was prevented by Gon. "We still have a chance to make a comeback though!" the dark-haired boy chirped quickly with his infallible optimism.

"If Goldfish and I win," Killua replied. "I'm pretty sure I'll win. What about you?"

"I'll get the job done," Asterra replied flatly.

"It's good that you have confidence, but—" Tonpa gestured at the cloaked prisoner already standing on the stage. "Which one of you are going to back it up first?"

Before either could answer, the prisoner on the stage pointed a finger towards the applicants and announced, "I want to face you."

At the end of his finger was Asterra.

As the words echoed into nothingness, the applicant's countenance sharpened into something predatory. It wasn't like the prisoner had much choice left; Killua and her were the only ones that had yet to compete. But it still set alarm bells off in her head that he had specifically challenged _her_.

"If you fight me, I'll make the rules so that you can win back some time," the convict continued.

Asterra felt all eyes come onto her and her lips pursed into a thin line. _Well shit. You've dropped me in it now, haven't you?_ This prisoner wanted to fight her; he was willing to give that much to. Why her, though? Did he think he could win against her? What gave him the advantage?

"This is probably a trap," Kurapika said.

"Most likely." _But if I can win back some of the time that perverted idiot lost…I might be able to reverse this situation. But I'm walking into an unknown situation; one bad move and I'll lose all of our time._ Maybe she could predict what kind of game he was going to propose. She stepped up to the edge of their side and asked, "What are you in here for?"

"Oh don't worry; it's light stuff," he assured her, which made her raise an eyebrow. "Smuggling, human trafficking, procuring, the occasional arson and jaywalking."

" _Light," my ass._

"Leorio, what's procuring?" Gon asked.

Leorio shifted his feet and looked up to the ceiling, looking uncomfortable and reluctant to answer. "Well, uh, you know…"

Gon looked to Kurapika, who replied, "It's something that would make Rutello...disrespect women or men, depending on who he dealt with."

"Oh."

The man was a pimp then. That didn't help with making a prediction, but it did help her with something else. Because as much as the profession made Asterra's lip curl, it made her smile a little too. She hadn't expected running into a possible source of information so early, before she even passed the exam.

And she didn't need a Hunter License to get information out of him.

The possibility of obtaining clues for the first piece of the puzzle alone made it worth the risk. _But what about Kikiri?_ If this was a physical fight she couldn't fight while cradling him in her arms. Her mind flipped through the options in her head, then decided.

"Can you take care of Kikiri for me while I'm out there?" she asked Gon.

Gon nodded "Uh-huh" and took Kikiri in his arms. His brows were furrowed. "Be careful."

Asterra blinked at the words, then gave a terse nod and started walking.

As she stopped a few feet away from her opponent, the prisoner took of his cowl. Revealed was a man in his mid or late twenties, his face shaped in a way reminiscent of the movie stars that she had seen teenagers fawn over. His eyes were grey and his hair black.

Something flickered at the back of her mind; there was something…familiar? From exactly where, though, eluded her like a half-forgotten dream.

"One more thing before I agree to fight you," she said, her voice low.

"Shoot."

"Ever heard of people with crystals embedded in their skin?"

"With _what_?"

"Crystals in their skin," she repeated, making sure to keep the impatience out of her voice. "You said you were a trafficker. Must have seen some odd humans in your time."

The man crossed his arms and looked to the ceiling for a few moments. "Come to think of it…I might've heard rumors."

Rumors—small truths blown up to unreliable stories of fancy spread by the words of the bored. Asterra wanted facts, certainty. But this wasn't an ideal world and she didn't have a license yet, so she'd have to start with a rumor and dig out the tiny truth within it.

"Win against me and I'll let you in on what I know," he winked.

"Fine. How are we going to do this?" she asked in a louder voice.

"Cards."

"Cards?" Asterra echoed.

"Yeah. You and me and a game of Concentration."

"Any special rules?"

"No; the usual 'match two number or two face cards.' If you get a match you get to keep flipping until you stop getting a match," the prisoner explained. "But at the end of the game, winner will gain time and loser will lose time."

"How is that determined?"

"At the end of the game we'll count up the pairs. The winner gets an hour back for each pair they have more than the loser."

"So let's say I won by three pairs. I'd get three hours back?"

"You got it, sweetheart." Something in her riled at the last word and she shoved the feeling down. The less the enemy knew about her the better.

The game itself didn't sound bad. She was confident in her ability in Concentration; playing against herself had been a pastime of hers before her Training years. "All right; let's go then."

"Great." The man sat down and gestured for her to do the same. He then produced a worn deck of cards from his pocket and handed it to her. "You can shuffle and lay out the cards."

 _So I can't accuse you of cheating._ The Resca took the deck and shuffled. The cards were smooth against her hands, their backs worn and riddled with minute tears. The tears weren't distinctive enough to be able to tell the difference between separate cards, though, much to her disappointment. The faint smell of alcohol wafted from them as well.

"Name's Rutello, by the way. What about you?"

"Why do you need to know?" Asterra started laying out the cards in a random fashion, counting them as she went.

"I like getting to know people. At the very least I'd like to know the name of who I'm playing cards with."

_54 cards in total; must have included jokers then. 54 divided by two is 27, so 27 pairs are available. Need at least fourteen pairs to win, so I can get back minimum of one, maximum of 27 hours back. Little over half of 50._

Analysis complete, she gauged his facial expression and body language. Everything was open—friendly, even. Was he really a criminal?

…Better to take precautions, all the same.

"Lapis," she replied as she laid the last of the cards down.

"Lapis, eh? Is your last name Lazuli?"

"No."

"Hmm, what a shame."

She held out a fist. "Rock paper scissors for first turn?"

"What, Leroute's display didn't scare you away?" he chuckled.

"Me, no. He might be scarred for life though." She pointed a thumb back at the tallest applicant.

"HEY!" cried out an indignant Leorio.

After two rounds of draws Rutello won the right to go first, and he flipped over two cards—an ace and a king. "You like geology?"

"Not really." Asterra flipped over one card—a two of hearts—and let her fingers wander over the backs of cards and until she picked another. Seven of spades. "Why?"

"Well since your name's Lapis and you're looking for people with crystals embedded in their skin…why are you looking for those kinds of people anyway?"

"None of your business." Asterra put two nonmatching cards back.

"Oh all right then. Personal business; I can respect that."

Asterra quirked an eyebrow. "There a reason you wouldn't have respected?"

"Hmm...touché, Lapis. Touché."

=o=

"Is that guy really a criminal?" Leorio asked out loud. "He seems so…normal."

"As naïve as always," Tonpa chided, to which Leorio snarled in response. "It's the normal-looking ones that are usually the most dangerous."

"Old man's got a point," Killua agreed, and Gon cocked his head at the silver-haired boy's words. "People like that blue Frankenstein can be seen from miles away; they put others on edge before they even do anything. Normal-looking people like that, though…they can stay under the radar. You never see them coming and they're the last person to be accused—two good ways to do work and stay out of prison."

"You sound like you speak from experience," Kurapika noted.

Killua shrugged at the blonde's words. "Just something my dad said. Makes sense, doesn't it?"

=o=o=o=

As Asterra pulled placed her seventh match neatly in front of her and started looking for another match Rutello remarked, "You really aren't one for small talk, are you?"

So it had taken the pimp 15 minutes of his attempts at chitchat being shot down by her succinct answers to finally realize that fact.

Rutello shrugged. "Ah well, you're not the first one I know that's like that. Honestly, though…it's a useful skill to have."

"Skill or tolerance for it?"

"Both." The man took two cards and got a match, bumping his tally to eight. "Not a lot of people like leaping straight into business; there's a fair share of those who like to ease into negotiations. Especially when those negotiations are about pay."

She raised an eyebrow at the prisoner who was now imparting practical knowledge to her. _Pay, huh…_.Asterra knew that she had little money to her name squirreled away in a bank account set up by her parents, especially after withdrawing some for traveling to the Exam Site. And no amount of scraping would allow her to scrounge together resources to fund the extensive traveling she would have to do.

The prisoner seemed to have picked up on this reality since he started, "The trick to being well-paid is 'being the best.'"

 _No shit, Captain Obvious._ "If you're the best, you'll always have a job," she replied. "…Why the air quotes?"

"Because depending on the situation, you can become the best without actually being the best."

"You lied to your clients?" Asterra drew two aces and placed her seventh pair to the side.

Rutello huffed, as if offended. "Are you that dead-set on thinking of me as immoral? I didn't lie; I placed myself in situations where my skillset allowed me to become the best _option_. When immediate action is required and a client doesn't have the time to search for the best, they take the best option given the circumstances." He watched Asterra flip over her cards and find a seven and a six. After she flipped the cards over he reached for a card and turned over a six. "For example…when a young professor realizes that the sealed trunk he pulled up from an underwater town is extremely sensitive to oxygen and beginning to decompose…" He turned over the six that Asterra had turned over a few minutes ago and placed his ninth pair near his feet. "He has to find an expert in preservation and transportation of artifacts fast if he wants to still have something to study by the end of the day, doesn't he?"

Chills needled down her spine at the words and she looked at Rutello in the eye. Studying a civilization that had been swallowed up by the seas was what her dad did.

And what Rutello had just said had happened to her dad once.

"How—" The question was cut off, because it no longer needed to be asked.

For her memories held the answer.

=o=

" _Sevis, is it?" her dad eyes a business card critically. "You have experience in artifact preservation?"_

" _Six years' worth," a man who she cannot see from her position replies._

" _You look too young."_

" _I had an apprenticeship in preservation."_

_Dad clicks his tongue. "Not as experienced as I'd like, but you'll have to do. I won't have anything left to study otherwise." He looks towards the man named Sevis. "You'll be paid in full when you produce results. For now, here's a down payment. The artifacts are in Tent #7."_

" _I'll start working on them right away."_

_As the words fade into air, a young man who looks like a movie star walks past and smiles at her, black hair flouncing over steel grey eyes._

=o=

She inhaled sharply as the memory disappears. All her precautions had been for naught.

" _Smuggling, human trafficking, procuring, the occasional arson and jaywalking."_

This man had worked with her dad on expeditions—expeditions that often had one or two artifacts go missing. He knew her from when she was a younger.

**The enemy knew her.**

"Remember me, Asterra?" a grin spread across Rutello's face, smug and knowing. "Remember Sevis?"

"You…" her voice took on a frigid edge. "You were the one that stole the artifacts Dad dug up."

"Oomph, stole is such a harsh word. I merely requisitioned them for clientele who would appreciate them more." He flipped over a card.

Her lips curled into a snarl at the words. She had been about nine when he started working with her dad—old enough to remember that while Sevis/Rutello restored the excavated artifacts, one or two of the artifacts sent back to a local museum always ended up being fakes. It didn't matter that her dad and all his colleagues double-checked, _triple-checked_ each artifact's authenticity; there was always a letter that came back, notifying him of a fraudulent piece.

Letters that made her dad act…so un-Dad-like. Letters that eroded his confidence, his patience, and (now that she was old enough to realize) his credibility. Invisible blows in the form of letters, mere symbols of ink written on paper had made her father sick enough to collapse and vomit blood. It had taken months of hospitalization to treat the whole slew of peptic ulcers that had sprouted along the wall of his small intestine.

And here she was now, playing Concentration with the man responsible for all of it.

…

 _ **Retribution,**_ her reptile brain hissed, the words accompanied by the unfurling of something black in her stomach. _**Rutello made your father feel pain; he deserves it to drown in it.**_

There were only a couple feet separating her from Rutello. So, so close. All she had to do was lunge forward. Then her itching fingers could wrap around his throat and choke the life out of him. But the impulse was not strong enough to make her act; there was no need to kill that amplified it and she needed the information he held. Discipline tempered by six years of hell remained steadfast and her fingers sharply turned over two cards that she knew were a match.

"I'd wondered where you'd gone," Rutello started as she searched for another match. "You were well-known among Corydon's colleagues for being the good kid that tagged along with your parents and rarely did anything to disrupt them."

Flickers of memory passed by in her mind, memories of observing her parents work. _"Act like an adult, we'll treat you like an adult."_ Being mature and calm and not causing trouble for her parents had meant her and Kikiri being taken to nice places and seeing nice things. It had meant being able to be with her parents. It had—

"What, they suddenly get sick and tired of being bogged down by you?"

" _No_ ," she forced through gritted teeth, the single-syllable word both serving to refute Rutello's claim and to assure herself. Memories of her playing scavenger hunt with her parents flitted through her mind like an old-fashioned movie. "No. They went somewhere I couldn't follow." She drew another match.

"Ohh, I see; so they put their careers before you." Rutello casually observed the remaining cards. "Not that I blame them. I mean, you were a kid and they were absolutely _brilliant_ scholars. I'm sure you only got in the way of true success. It's not like you could be of any use to them anyway. You know what I heard?"

"I have no interest in what your ears heard."

The convict ignored her. "I heard that Corydon and Elevia dropped you off on a relative's doorstep so he could repair his reputation. And Elevia didn't even argue with his decision."

There were two soft sounds of cards cutting through the air and her consecutive streak of matches ended. Rutello hummed, his left hand wandering over the remaining cards. He failed to produce a match.

Short-trimmed nails etched red lines into the skin of her knees as her hands curled into fists. "Take that back," she breathed.

"Hmm?"

Cold eyes glittered with a blatant malice. "Take those words back or I'll rip your tongue out."

"Oooh, scary." The man said, his smile unfazed. Hasty threats, death glares. He was pissing her off, all right. And pissed off equated to making mistakes.

The girl flipped over two cards angrily and her lips shaped a curse.

=o=

"This is not good," Kurapika murmured, arms crossed, watching the two competitors fight for time using cards. The simplicity of the game contrasted sharply with what was at stake. "Rutello's got Asterra completely caught up in his rhythm."

"Do you think that what he's saying is true?" Leorio asked quietly.

"From the way she's reacting…" Killua started, feline-looking eyes drinking in the situation. "There's a good chance it is."

"That underhanded son of a bitch," Leorio hissed under his breath, following the phrase with a whole slew of colorful curses.

"Well, guess we're done for," Tonpa sighed. "At this rate, she's going to lose."

Nanoseconds after the rotund man finished the sentence a shadow loomed over him, covering his face and torso. Tonpa looked up.

"…Is that all you can say?" Leorio's voice was quiet, dark eyes narrowed to slits. "After hearing all of that, that's all you can say?"

"Is there anything more _to_ say?"

Leorio's arm flashed and nanoseconds later the shorter applicant was _slammed_ into the brick wall by the front of his shirt. "You _sick bastard_ ," Leorio snarled. "What the fuck is your problem?!"

"Leorio!" Kurapika chided.

"Don't 'Leorio!' me!"

The blonde stepped in between the two applicants, a barrier of flesh. "Yelling like this will only make it more difficult for Asterra to concentrate; think of the consequences of your actions!"

The tall applicant's hand shook for a moment, the desire to pummel this man's face _just this once_ making nerves fire wildly. But then his fingers were uncurling and Tonpa's back was sliding down the wall. "Happy now?" he asked the blonde, who gave no reply save for a cool, reprimanding glare.

Killua glanced back at the trio. _Man alive; that's a bomb itching to explode._

Meanwhile Gon ignored the tension stewing in the air right behind him and just continued to stare at the stage with his large brown eyes, digesting what he had just heard the prisoner named Rutello say.

Asterra…her dad had left her to chase his own dream, except in her case her mom had done the same as well. Yet there was no hatred in her eyes when she talked about them; only fond memories and a little bit of…admiration, maybe. And yearning.

It made him wonder what it was like to miss both parents. To have two parents worth pining over.

"Gon."

_But I have Mito-san._

"GON!"

The dark-haired boy's eyes snapped down to the Dokujo he was currently cradling in his arms. "Kikiri!" he replied. "Asterra's not doing well right now…"

"I know. And since I can't tear that bastard's throat out myself, you're gonna have to help me." Kikiri leaned up and whispered something in Gon's ear.

=o=

Concentration. There was a reason this game had such a name.

But Rutello and his thrice-damned words were shredding hers into nothing.

 _Gotta stay calm, gotta stay calm…_ the words circled in her head with such fury that it had the opposite effect. Locations of cards slipped out of her mind, displaced by so many roiling emotions that she did _not_ have the time to deal with right now. _Have to get the job done, have to get the job done…_

She flipped over two cards quickly and failed to garner a match. _Shit, shit…_ Rutello had eleven pairs, she had nine. There was still time to make a comeback, but Rutello only needed three more pairs until he won. Focus, she had to focus; there was no time for her to waste on sorting her fucking emotions out. She had priorities, for crying out loud.

But the damage was done. Rutello's words had sucker-punched a dam six years in the making; a dam built up by a focus on survival that had kept dark emotions back. One that had remained strong even when those dark emotions had started to grow, tended to by suspicions of an older mind. Black, sticky emotions were oozing out the gaping hole, tentacles curling around her mind, her thoughts, her memories….

…

…

_What if he's right?_

What if her parents had thought she was only baggage? What if she had been an accident and her parents were only going through the motions of parenting? The Resca took child-rearing extremely seriously, after all. It was a parent's duty to raise a child and become a socially responsible and productive member of society. Not doing so was so looked down upon so much that giving up a child was completely out of the question. No matter the circumstances of a child's birth—accident, out of wedlock, too early, too late—the parent was expected to play an active role in the child's life. No exceptions, save for death or coma.

It was a well-meaning expectation. But it was an expectation that was taking her mind, her childhood, her love for her parents for a ride.

_Did they really love me in the end? Or were they just playing roles? Being the parents that their circumstances required them to be?_

"Asterra!" Gon's voice reverberated across the room. "Asterra, Kikiri says to remember that day! The day before your Training started!"

_The day before Training started…._

The last time she had seen her parents.

=o=o=o=

_It is a cold day with a strong wind in Mereta the Resca homeland, which is an eclectic combination of steppes, grassland, and fertile valley lands that yields to very few. Her parents are speaking in Resca to her maternal uncle, a member of the militia._

_The smell of cooking floats around her uncle's house and it makes Asterra and Kikiri's mouth water. But she doesn't quite act on the hunger because something is wrong. Her parents' faces are too stiff, their voices too brisk. Her uncle's face is harsh as well._

_Ever curious, she presses her ears to the wall in an attempt to eavesdrop. But the walls are too thick for her to hear any words._

_Footsteps grow louder—her parents walking towards the room she's in—and she quickly pretends to play with Kikiri. When they call her she runs over to them, face bright with expectation. "Where are we going next?"_

" _Daddy and I are going to a dangerous place," her mom replies. "You're going to stay in Mereta for a while."_

_Even she can feel her face falling. "But…I always go with you…"_

" _I know, Plops." Her dad calls her that pet name and she crinkles her nose. "But we can't take us with you. You'll be safer here."_

" _But I feel safest when I'm with you." She hugs Mom's legs tightly._

" _Oh, Asterra…" Mom kneels down so that she is face to face with her. She takes Asterra's face in her hands. Then Asterra is swept up in an embrace so tight, too tight. "I'm sorry…we can't protect you anymore. We're not strong enough."_

" _No, you're both really, really strong. Training made you strong."_

_Dad's expression softens at that and he shakes his head. "There's always a bigger fish." He wraps his arms around her and Mom, who is on the verge of tears._

" _Asterra…from tomorrow onwards, things are going to get very, very hard," Mom barely manages to get out._

" _Hard? Why?"_

" _Because you're going to have to learn to take care of yourself. It's going to be a very different experience. Nothing like you've done before." Dad stroked her hair. "Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if you hated us for throwing you into it like this."_

" _Training?"_

_Dad nods._

" _I have to do that anyway, right?" Asterra beams, blissfully unaware of the physical and psychological challenges that the single word "Training" entails. "Will I be strong as Mommy and Daddy by the end?"_

_A smile—not happy, but…sad? Pained?_

_Did Dad's stomach still hurt? Was Mom getting sick too?_

" _You'll be stronger than us," Mom replies. "Much, much stronger."_

" _That's possible?"_

" _Very much so," Mom nods. "Now, I know that this is sudden and confusing. But I promise you, it's for the best…it's for you. Mommy and Daddy will explain everything when you're older. Until then…survive, okay?"_

_She wraps her pinky around her mom's in response, despite the fact that she doesn't really understand the depth or meaning of "survive" at her age._

" _Okay."_

=o=o=o=

The tears had been genuine. The embrace had been tight and their arms and voices had trembled with emotions too strong to be put into words.

_Mom, Dad…if I become a Hunter, will I be old enough to hear the explanation?_

"Which do you choose to believe?!" Gon yelled. "That man's words or your memories?!"

Asterra shook her head with a laugh then turned around to the applicants' side. Gon stood towards the edge of the platform, Kikiri cradled gently in his hands.

She shook her head. There was no way Gon knew about that last day with her parents, which left only one possibility. _Ah, Kikiri. You've saved my ass once again._ "You know I hate rhetorical questions!" she yelled back, then fixed her eyes on the enemy once again; on an enemy that had no power to define who she was or what she was worth to her parents, for he knew nothing of what her family was like. A dangerous grin—more like a flash of teeth, really—spread across her face.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Rutello. This game's eaten up enough time already; let's end this."

=o=o=o=

Five minutes later, the game was done.

Asterra, 14 pairs. Rutello, 13 pairs.

The screen beeped and the score became 3-3.

"Well I'll be damned," Rutello shook his head. "I'll be damned."

Asterra breathed out, tension escaping her body. She'd known it would be a close game from how late she'd recovered from Rutello's psychological attacks, but that had been _extremely_ close. She stood up to stretch her legs after sitting cross-legged for so long. "I've won. Now fulfill your part of the bargain."

"Hmph. Like father, like daughter, eh? You both insist on chasing down shadows of the past when there might not be anything left to chase in the present day." He shook his head resignedly. "History was never my favorite subject in school."

"You don't seem to be the school type to start off with," she replied crisply. "Now quit rambling and give me the information you promised."

"Patience, patience," the man chides. He starts gathering up his cards, slowly, slowly. He was playing with her, with what time she had won back, and it was pissing her off. "First rule of negotiation, Asterra: never show that you're desperate."

She bit the inside of her lip, mostly out of anger at how this man could read her.

"These people you're looking for…they're actually a legend in the trafficking world. Way back when—we're talking before the Hunters Association was even established—there used to be many courtesans with crystals embedded in their skin. 'Lariat' was their common name; sometimes they were called 'living gems.'"

"Creative," she said dryly.

"People with rather specific tastes would exchange fortunes just to admire their assets and see the dance that showed off their crystal's luster in fantastic ways. In fact, rumor was that just getting one Lariat in your hands would turn your brothel's fortunes around, no matter how far you were in the hole."

"These people couldn't have all been prostitutes. Where was their homeland?"

Rutello put his deck of cards in his pocket and stood up. "Nobody knows for sure. Some people say they came from the lands north of Kakin; others say they were products of forbidden genetic experiments on humans—beautiful failures that had no other fate but to be pretty dolls that pleasured others. But one thing was certain: there was only one way to get a Lariat, and that was through a syndicate called Intaglio."

 _Now we're getting somewhere._ "The Intaglio—they still exist?"

"Not in the old sense. They had to evolve."

"Why?"

"Because they exhausted their source of merchandise."

A chill ran down her spine at the words.

"In the present day they've cemented themselves in mid-level-risk operations—Scarlet Eyes, scaled skin, organ smuggling, the works. But I'm sure they'd salivate over the chance to catch themselves a Lariat in an attempt to get back their old fame…if any still existed." He then snapped forward, his hand quick as a snake, and yanked her toward him. The grip on her wrist tightened and his thumb pressed into the inside of her wrist.

Alarm bells rung at the touch, self-defense instincts roared to life. " _The hell do you—?!_ "

A slow, knowing smile spread across cracked lips that made the words she had been about to say screech to a halt. Then Rutello was whispering into her ear, so close that his breaths brushed across the skin of her neck. "Hunt carefully, Asterra. Your prey's got dogs everywhere that'll sniff out any threat…or profit."

Her hackles rose at his words, the closeness, the abruptness, the sheer _audacity_ —all of which snapped out a snarl. "Duly noted. _Now get your_ _fucking hands_ _off of me_."

With that she twisted her wrist and bent her forearm back, freeing herself of that iron grip. Her other fist slammed into the man's mouth with a resounding _crack_. Rutello stumbled back a couple paces, but the blow had not been enough to erase that infuriating smile. He used the back of his fist to wipe away blood from a split lip. "Heh, don't know what you did for six years but you've become lot more violent."

She straightened the cuffs of her sleeves. "Six years is a long time."

"Long enough to change the little girl who used to giggle at any jokes into your present delightful self?" he asked, sarcasm lacing the last few words.

Her eyes became half-lidded for a moment, then they were fully open again, glittering with a cold light. "Long enough to kill and bury her." There was no hesitation, no regret in her voice; only a neutrality that came from expressing a truth that had been long since accepted.

At the sound of stone grinding on stone—the signal of the bridges extending—the Resca turned on her heel and started walking back.

* * *

**Aaannd that's the end of that. So Asterra finally reveals one of the things she's looking for (because 19 chapters is a really long time to go without saying that. Sorry guys).**

**The following is somewhat rant-like. If you have no desire to read it, just let me say this: thanks for reading to the end (especially to the end of this mess of a chapter).**

**…**

**Holy crap. This has taken such a drastic turn in mood then what I had planned two years ago.**

**So basically this was a whole dump of Asterra exposition—part of her reason for wanting information, tidbits of her past, of her relationship with her parents. I wanted Asterra to have a somewhat tragic past but I didn't want to make her an orphan because parents get killed off for tragic backstory purposes at a rather alarming frequency.**

**Folks! Parents are people too! And the lessons they impart on their children (as well as the relationship they have with them) is an important part of their core that is so much fun to explore!**

**…Then again I didn't always think like that. Aging does stuff to you, I guess. Okay, I'll get off my soapbox now. *proceeds to step off a box***

**Soo…Rutello.**

**Honestly, I don't know what the hell happened with this guy. He started out pretty vulgar in previous drafts, then…he turned into this well-spoken Napoleon-Solo-type guy. ("The Man from U.N.C.L.E" was absolutely fantastic, by the way. I recommend everybody to see it.)**

**Feedback, comments, and reviews are always appreciated!**

**-Rhyss**


	21. Amateurs and Professionals

It was much too quiet on the applicant's side when she walked back, save for Gon's words of congratulations. So after nodding to the young boy from Whale Island she asked, "How much did you hear?"

The question was asked softly but with a tenor that demanded an answer.

A moment of hesitation, then an answer from Kurapika. "Everything he said about your parents."

She clicked her tongue. The air felt awkward—it was the one that formed when people were walking on eggshells…the type that made her hackles rise. Coddling was unnecessary here; it did nothing for anyone. Expectations for it had been long since beat out of her, and those expectations were not coming back.

Her reply was blunt. "Then don't pity me, because that's not what happened. My parents had a better reason for leaving me than repairing their reputation." Maybe she sounded like a petulant child too blinded by admiration for her parents to see their flaws. But in the end it was her choice who to believe, and she sure as hell wasn't going to believe the parasite who dug his claws into her father's dreams and leeched off of them to fill his pockets.

"Then what was their reason?" Tonpa asked.

Flashes of the past danced behind her eyes: _"We're not strong enough" "This is for Asterra" "Why did this have to happen?"_ And then her voice in the present: "There's no need for you to know."

Arms crossed against a rotund stomach. "Exactly how much information do you plan on keeping to yourself?"

"My parents' past actions have no impact on the current situation. No reason to dwell, no reason to reveal." She turned to the Killua and lifted her chin towards the arena. "Your turn."

The silver-haired boy rolled his neck. "Yeah, yeah. I know."

=o=

A crowd of scowling faces welcomed Rutello back to his side.

"My, my. Certainly feeling the love here," he quipped.

"What was that you just pulled back there?" Leroute demanded.

Rutello's hands rose, palms out, in placation. "Relax…I only lost by an hour."

"An hour?" Bendot growled. "That's _another_ _year_ we have to spend in this shithole,"

Grumbling from other prisoners accompanied the statement.

In response, Rutello clapped. "Everyone, let's do a little math here." He started stating numbers and counting them off with his finger. "112. 199. 149. 108. 175. 132. 968. Do you know what all these numbers have in common?"

All of them either bit their lip or looked away.

"Then let me remind you—subtract 50 from all these numbers and you still get a number _much_ larger than 50. Which means even the youngest of us would either be six feet under or halfway there. So what's another year, eh?"

Leroute clenched her teeth. "Says the one that would have 82 years left. But I still have a chance." She drew herself up to full height—a wholly intimidating 5'2". "The longest a human has lived is 122 years. People can live up to ninety easily. I'll be free by the time I'm that age—but when you get past 70 living a year more is a big deal!"

"She's right," Sedokan followed. "A year's still a year, even if it's less than 1% of our sentence."

"And you threw it away to do what? Play tricks on a former scam target's daughter?" Majitani crossed his arms. "You tryin' to torment an old flame?"

Grey eyes shifted their focus to the con artist, glinting coldly in the light. "Majitani, the last time I saw her she was _nine._ I'm guilty of many things, but pedophilia is not one of them," Rutello replied, the pitch of his voice deepening into something akin to a beast's growl. The blue man averted his gaze from the former pimp, who then sighed and used one hand to rub both temples. "All right, you've all made your point. I promise to make it up to you all, somehow."

"Making promises you can't keep is a bad idea," Visgo said softly.

"Hence the reason I added 'somehow' and didn't promise anything," he drawled back.

"Tch. Slippery as ever," Sedokan muttered.

A flash of white teeth. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Enough." Leroute looked up towards the camera that observed the prisoners. "How much time to they"—a bob of the head towards the applicants—"have left?"

"Fifty-nine hours, twenty-five minutes," a voice said from the speaker in the camera nearby. Lippo.

"Which means don't even have ten hours left," Bendot said.

"It doesn't matter how much time they have."

The six applicants' heads snapped towards source of the gravelly voice that held barely any inflection of emotion: the massive shadow in the back, who had remained silent until now.

"Because my opponent _will_ die." Icy blue eyes, empty of anything resembling a soul, looked up at the other prisoners.

And despite the pasts they had lived, all the horrors witnessed and committed etched into their memories…nothing could prevent the ice of fear from slithering down their spine.

"Well, who's the lucky bastard," Bendot muttered and looked towards the bridge to see—

—a silver-haired boy.

"Poor boy," Leroute murmured as she saw Killua cross the bridge.

"Oh, now that's just unfortunate," Rutello said.

"I didn't want to use him either," Lippo's voice said over the speakers. "But this is the Hunter Exam; there is no mercy. If he dies here, he dies here. End of story. I'm removing his handcuffs."

=o=

Asterra turned her head to across the room as she heard the sounds of falling handcuffs. The prisoners were looking towards the back of their side, where a large man was now standing. And there were backing away. All but one—and he had blue skin. Majitani blocked out the other man for several moments.

A blink and a crash later, he was _embedded in the wall._

She blinked at the sight. "Kikiri."

"Yeah, I saw it."

And then fat fingers connected to well-muscled forearms were dragged across the wall. Brick yielded to the advance of the man's pale hand, leaving a gash in the wall.

_What the hell?_

The prisoner took off his cowl with one of his arms, revealing a man with small eyes and brutish features. Blond, unkempt hair sat atop thick, dark blond eye brows that crowned icy blue eyes that seemed to be more like twin voids. A mustache of the same color, equally thick, spread across his upper lip.

Leorio inhaled sharply. "Killua, don't fight him. Take the loss."

The boy stopped at the lip of the bridge. "Why?"

"That's Johness the Ripper. He's the worst serial killer in Zaban City's history. He chose his victims randomly—young, old, male, female—and by the time he was caught 146 people had been torn apart by his bare hands."

"Torn…apart?" Kikiri squeaked.

Leorio nodded. "Thanks to his unnaturally strong grip."

As if proving a point, Johness crushed a fist sized rock with a large hand, letting pebbles fall to the ground. "It's been so long since I touched human flesh."

"You don't have to face that psychotic killer…There's always next year."

Killua walked forward anyway.

"Killua! Hey, Killua!" Leorio hissed in annoyance. "Dammit, was he even listening to me?"

"Let him go," Kurapika crossed his arms. "It could be that he knows a way to deal with him."

_Oh, he knows all right._ The Resca's mouth quirked into a sardonic smile at the turn of events. Killer versus killer. Now _this_ would be interesting.

The bridges withdrew.

"So, what's the contest?" Killua asked, faint smile on his face and hands in his pockets.

"Contest?" the man's hands twitched, anxious with bloodthirst. "There will be no contest. What there will be is a massacre. There will be no passing, failing, or amnesty. All there will be is the sound of you screaming."

The boy's reply was simple and unaffected. "Okay. So the loser is the one who dies."

Johness seemed to be taken aback for a moment, but he recovered. "Yes. Your body will be—"

A flash of cold needled Asterra's skin and she jolted. The same malice from the airship—calculating, sharp, precise—akin to the blade of a scalpel, as opposed to Johness' blunt, unchecked, butcher-knife-like bloodlust. A thing of habit, summoned so easily…and a telltale sign that Killua was indeed accustomed to these situations.

The boy stepped forward.

Perhaps "disappeared from view" was a better way to put it. Asterra barely managed to trail the blue and white streak that headed straight for the man.

Johness extended his hand. "—torn apart—" he managed to utter, then stopped suddenly as Killua appeared behind him. He looked down at his chest dumbfoundedly to see that there was a hole in it—a hole where his heart would be. "What…?"

Killua shuffled his arms, then turned around. In the white-haired boy's hand was a heart—a fleshy red, autorhythmic fibers twitching, blood dripping from frayed blood vessels with every pulse. And Killua was smiling, triumphant, with an empty look in his eyes.

"That's…mine…" Johness began to struggle towards Killua, hand outstretched not in threat this time but in begging. "G-Give it back…"

_Da-dump_ , drip. _Da-dump_ , drip.

_Da…dump_.

…

And then Johness was gone.

Asterra's fingers grasped the material in her pockets in an attempt to still her arms, set into motion by the coldness in her chest.

_That could have been me._

Not even twenty-four hours ago, she had been standing only mere feet away from Killua…very similar to the distance between the boy and the serial killer at the beginning of the match. A wrong choice at that point and there would have been a funeral service in Mereta for her.

…

She _had_ to think of a way to take him out. That speed, that precision…there was no way she could come up with something on the fly in the event he became an enemy.

As if taking pity on Johness, Killua placed the heart in the man's hand as the number above the applicant's side turned to 4.

"Okay, that's four wins, 3 losses. We pass, right?"

"Yeah. You win." Bendot said.

"Hey, mister. The fat one wasn't much of a challenge for you, right?" Killua's eyes turned cat-like. "Want to play with me instead?"

"I'll pass."

"Oh, okay." Killua walked back to them.

"Who the hell is he?" Leorio breathed.

"Oh yeah…you guys don't know, do you," Gon murmured, then stated casually. "Killua comes from an elite family of assassins."

That…made more sense. Actually, it made _a lot_ of sense. Killua's actions, the absence of remorse, the silent footsteps, that precision…they would all make sense if Killua had received training as an assassin.

"I'm back," Killua announced, at which Leorio jolted and shied away. The boy frowned. "What?"

"Er, ah, well…Good work!" the young man answered back with a forced smile. Upon saying the words a panel in one of the walls opened and a bridge came out.

"Across the bridge, you'll find a small room to spend the forty-nine hours you gambled away." Lippo said.

"Let's go," Killua said to Gon, who nodded and started walking.

=o=

"We have to spend forty-nine hours in this room?" Leorio grumbled as he sat down on one of the armrest-less leather sofas.

He said the words in a way that suggested that he didn't like the room, although Asterra found nothing wrong with it. It was quite spacious, and the décor looked lavish—a large TV, two black leather foldable sofas, two foldable chairs, a glass coffee table, a fridge, and a large bookcase in the far corner. There were two doors in the left wall, most likely to a bathroom and a closet of some sort. The carpet was lilac-grey and looked plush.

Then again, spending six years in a cabin-like building crammed with bunks and a dirt floor had exponentially lowered her standards for interior décor.

"Killua," Kurapika called.

"Yeah?"

"Can you tell me how you did that?"

"That, as in…?"

"The one you used to remove his heart."

Asterra's ears perked at that.

"Oh that? That's not even a technique. I just ripped it out."

"Ripped it out?"

"I mean I guess this is kind of like a technique." With that the veins in Killua's fingers popped out. In the next moment the nails were growing, tapering to a predatory point.

"Wow!" Gon gasped.

"Mass murderers are still only amateurs; I used to be a professional. But my old man does it even better—when he removes a heart, you won't even see a drop of blood." A cold smile of remembrance graced the young boy's face.

In the next moment it was gone, replaced by the face of a child eager to find a plaything. "Come on, Gon! Let's find something to do."

"Jeez…I don't wanna know what Killua and his dad did for father-son time," Kikiri muttered as the two youngest applicants of the group clamored around the bookshelf to see if there was anything of interest.

And thus started the applicant's 49 hours of waiting.

**Hi guys! Happy spring (for those living on the northern hemisphere). And thanks for being patient with me as I hammer the chapters out.**

**Comment replies:**

**Sim: I'm glad that the world building went over well! It's one of my favorite things to do, being the nerd I am. I love how the HxH world is analogous to ours, which allows for some scientific ideas, yet the aspect of Nen allows for supernatural details to fit in seamlessly as well. I figured that if there's a tribe of people who put holes in themselves to make music while they dance, a race of people with crystals embedded in their skin isn't too far fetched haha.**

**Gravity Mumbo Jump: Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy the future chapters.**

**Until next time,**

**Rhyss**


	22. Shennanigans

One room, seven people, forty-three hours remained.

…This room was _much_ too small for that.

Only six hours had passed, yet already restlessness was making her back and legs itch. There were not many pages left in her book and her mind was starting to scamper off in odd directions rather than focus on the text. _Time to do something else._

So she switched to people-watching.

Her first object of observation was Gon and Killua in the corner, playing around with the skateboard. Seeing the two made prior observations pop up in her head and meld into profiles.

_Gon—fast and agile. Landing a hit difficult; need to make every strike count. Creative—in a fight I need take him down quickly before he can come up with something. Fishing rod is an apt close to mid-range weapon that is good as a staff-type weapon and a whip. Appears reluctant to kill—could provide an opening. Hard to ambush due to superhuman senses._

_Killua—fast, agile, quiet. Not afraid to kill. Precision fighter; need to make sure to keep my vital spots covered. Hard to ambush. Might have to lure him in with an easy hit to a non-vital, then finish him off. Risky, though. Claws are problem._

Plans, plans, and back-up plans, preparation for the time that came when the other five applicants became enemies. She had been lucky with this group; at least three competent individuals, one somewhat competent individual, and one unknown. But loyalties were not steadfast in her experience, save for Kikiri's and her parents'. So far she had nothing to tie the other people to her and no obligations tying her to them.

For now, she would do nothing—there was no reason to waste a working relationship with capable individuals and she would use them to pass this phase. But that didn't mean she couldn't to formulate a series of tactics to take them out, just in case. If nothing happened, then the planning would have been nothing more than a mental exercise to keep her occupied. If they did end up having to fight each other, though…well, she would take them out. End of story.

The two boys continued to play around on the skateboard, Gon warily placing one foot on the surface of the toy with curiosity in his eyes and caution in his posture. Killua laughed and continued to encourage the dark-haired applicant to hurry up and get on. His pestering reminded Asterra of a time before Training, of years spent wandering the world with her parents…and playing with the children of the villages they stayed at.

A yelp sounded as Gon nearly fell off the skateboard, eliciting a bark of laughter from his teacher and jolting Asterra from her reverie. Her muscles started to move into fighting position before she realized there was no threat. Just an innocent scene. Just two children playing.

And then a brief thought—when the time came to fight, would Killua protect Gon and vice versa? _An assassin getting attached that easily? Is that possible?_

Unlikely, but another scenario to keep in mind.

"Hey, Kurapika…we'll have about ten hours to get out of here, right?" Leorio asked from the couch.

_Leorio—normal physical capabilities. Has penknife, level of skill unknown; right hand dominant. Most likely reluctant to kill. Should be able to take him out quickly. Kikiri can take care of him._

The blonde nodded. "Yes, that's correct."

_Kurapika—balanced fighter. Also tactical…long fights, disadvantageous. I most likely have more experience than him in fighting, but Scarlet Eyes mode seems to enhance his physical capabilities greatly—should avoid enraging him. Relatively "honorable" fighter; can take advantage of that. Trained in sword and unarmed combat._

"Heh, we'll be all right then, won't we?" Leorio grinned. "That's more than enough time!"

A flat voice cut into the conversation. "You're being naïve," Tonpa added. "Phase Three lasts 72 hours, and each phase is designed to weed out about half of the remaining candidates. So on average, it's meant to take 72 hours. Just more proof that you're not only an idiot, you're a naïve idiot as well."

_Tonpa—need more information. Must have stamina to have passed first phase; some degree of strategy to face off with pigs of second phase. Also a versatile manipulator._

"Well, our chances of reaching the goal within ten hours will depend on the remaining trials," Kurapika acquiesced.

"But we've got a guy who's so unlucky that he can't even win a game of rock-paper-scissors. Forgive me if I don't hold my breath." The applicant took a sip of coffee. "And let's not forget the fact that you deliberately lost a bet to satiate your libido…"

"Says the one who surrendered without fighting!" Leorio retorted.

Kikiri drowsily raised his head from her lap. "Are they going at it again?" Asterra told him to go back to sleep because it was not something worth listening to.

"Sure, I surrendered." Tonpa took another sip. "But I only wasted a second of our time. You lost and squandered fifty of our remaining hours. Take some responsibility, will you? Besides, what kind of Hunter is a bad gambler…"

Leorio shot up from his seat. "Shut up! You don't even want to become a Hunter! You only care about dragging other people down!"

"And then we have you two," Tonpa turned his attention to Asterra, saying words that made her finger twitch. "You had the chance to get back time, but what happens? You lose concentration because of some taunting. We could have gotten half of our time back but all you get is forty minutes. And you, rat. You also severely underestimated your enemy. Not only did you waste time, you lost like Leorio here."

Her hands twitched again, this time moving towards her pocket knife. She had a good angle; perhaps making a little nick in his ear would shut him up. But before she could throw the blade there was a yelp of surprise and a shriek as something cut through the air. Then a nanosecond later yellow streak that whistled by Tonpa's head and crashed into solid concrete.

Killua's skateboard bounced off the wall and landed soundlessly on the plush carpet.

"Gon!" Leorio yelled.

"Sorry, sorry!" the boy apologized.

"Save the skateboarding for outside! This room is too small!"

"Awww…." The boy trailed off, shoulders slumping in disappointment.

The Resca smirked—not at Gon being scolded, but at the pallor of Tonpa's face. Maybe Leorio wasn't keen of skateboards flying his way, but Asterra was more than willing to dodge them as long as a couple got close enough to Tonpa to scare him like that.

=o=o=o=

_She is suspended in a void, nothingness muffling her five senses like a black wool blanket cocooning her. Then flashes of light, colors blooming in the darkness and blossoming into landscapes too bizarre to be from this world. Towering labyrinths of obsidian smothered by vines and roots; cities of alien architecture. Then something pushes her towards one scene urgently, incessantly, and she crosses the threshold into a particular dreamscape._

_Her feet are bare, soles pressing on grass that alternately scratched and tickled her feet. A harsh wind, dead-set on tearing the skin off her face, hisses all around her; the sounds of metal battering against metal, screams fanfaring the failure of hearts, flesh being torn from bone assaults her ears. Winds shove the stench of blood and excrement oozing from broken into her nose, the intensity like a hammer-blow._

_She knows this chaos, this cacophony._

_This is war._

_A tilt of her chin downward and she can see soldiers bleeding and dying, fighting alongside large dinosaur-like creatures that ran across the battlefield on eight avian legs. Long spine-spikes gleam black in the sun and each screech reveals teeth the size of small buildings, formerly ivory in color but now crimson. Corpses—limbless, crushed, sheared beyond recognition—lay on top of one another, serving testament to the sheer destructive power of the creatures._

" _Duxis." A male voice calls her name and she walks back to a tent-like structure of white cloth, draped with colored silks on the inside. A man kneels in front of her, dark hair swirling around the crystals that protruded out from his skull._

" _Speak."_

" _Their numbers are few and our scouts did not find more hidden. Within the hour this border will be secured."_

 _Her head—_ is it her head?— _moves in a nod and a voice speaks—not hers, yet still familiar. "Good. Any reports from Ayan?"_

" _None so far. We did find a spy in our ranks though."_

_Spy, spy? How did it get in, where did it come from? "Question him for the enemy's whereabouts, numbers, objectives—the usual. Use Karios if need be."_

" _Understood."_

_The soldier leaves and she leans over a map, a beautiful thing with hasty markings and colorful game pieces represent the ever-changing situation of the battle. Options and scenarios are running through her head; thoughts not hers yet still very much understandable swirling, swirling, swirling. She reaches for a glass of water and brings it to her face, then stops._

_The face reflected in the water is not hers._

=o=o=o=

A pillow landing on her face and laughter ringing in her ears serve as her wake-up call.

A small yawn—Kikiri stretching—reached her ears. Sitting up to investigate the source of laughter revealed Gon and Killua charging at each other, pillows in hand. Grumbling from the two oldest applicants ensued.

She shook her head to clear it of leftover drowsiness.

"You were tossing and turning last night…that dream again?" Kikiri's question was soft, meant for her ears only.

She nodded, rubbing her eyes with one hand. "War this time. Soldiers, dinosaurs. Something about enemy spies. That same person calling me 'Duxis'…whatever that is."

"It's been a while since you last saw that dream."

Two years, to be precise. The reason behind the gap was beyond her understanding; she had seen the dreams on a quasi-regular basis since age nine, then they had stopped a little after her fourteenth birthday. Ignoring them, concluding they were the product of an overactive imagination would have been the easier thing to do…if it weren't for the fact that they felt like a distant memory. Not hers, per se—she had never been in a war before—but there was a distinct feeling of déjà vu that accompanied the dreams and stoked the embers of curiosity…and her desire to become an Information Hunter.

To find out more about the Lariat. To put these dreams to rest once and for all and see if they were anything important…or just a product of an extremely overactive imagination. In order to accomplish those two objectives, she needed information and the ability to travel and enter any area freely. The ability to get high-paying jobs wouldn't hurt either.

There was a chime and a brick came out of the wall with trays in a hollow portion. Breakfast.

When Gon asked her if she slept alright, she lied.

=o=o=o=

— **35 hours left—**

"You reading this?" Asterra asked Kurapika, holding up a book with a green cover.

"No."

The Resca took the book back to her corner, which consisted of her blanket spread out and a pillow from the closet next to the bathroom. Over the course of fourteen hours the six applicants had established "territories" of a sort—Kurapika with a foldable chair near the bookcase, Tonpa in the other foldable in another corner of the room, Leorio on one couch, Killua and Gon on the other. Usually they kept to themselves until meal time, at which point they would gather at the coffee table in the center of the room.

She opened the book—titled _People of the World—_ and was greeted by a full-color photo of endless blue and rolling hills of green. She inhaled quietly and briefly at the familiar sight etched into her mind by childhood visits and Training. Riders in the middle of the photo, well-bundled in swathes of colorful cloth, looked back at the cameraman stoically from well-built horses.

Something inside her twinged at the picture of the closest thing she had to a home. She had spent the most time in Mereta. Lived among the people, grown up in a culture that made sense to her, breathed in the air that raked its cold claws down her throat. It had not always been sunshine and roses while she was there with Training and all, but it had been a constant.

Bandaged fingers traced the outlines of the riders and for a while she stared at the page, absorbing every little detail, while Leorio snarled something about fish and peals of cheeky laughter answered him. In fact, she was so absorbed that she barely managed to dodge something that came whistling at her.

Wary eyes snapped in the direction of the projectile's origin and she saw Gon and Killua on their couch.

"Killua, you missed again. We're aiming for the cup."

"No I didn't," the assassin grinned as he flicked his wrist.

The next moment there was the sound of cloth rustling at the back of her neck and then a white cloth—her hood—slipped over her hair and eyes, covering the colorful, nostalgic photo from view. _That git._ Asterra felt around the rim of her hood for the fishing hook that was undoubtedly the culprit of her current situation.

"See? I caught a Goldfish." She could hear the smirk in Killua's voice.

"Asterra," she corrected automatically, her fingers brushing against something metallic. Despite several soft tugs in multiple directions the hook refused to come free, much to her annoyance. Then suddenly she heard soft footsteps and callused fingers brushed her hands away from the hook.

"But that's not even how you catch goldfish," the Whale Island native's voice rained down on her from above. "Haven't you been to a festival before? You catch goldfish with a poi!" Gon pushed Asterra's hood back to see that the orange-haired applicant's hand had assumed face-palm position. "Wait…did I say something wrong?"

Killua's cackling served as his answer. "See! Gon thinks you're a goldfish too!" Chuckling from other applicants joined the chorus of laughter in the room.

"What? No I don't! I was just pointing out that—Killua, seriously!" The pouting tone was evident in Gon's voice and he turned towards the Resca. "Asterra, I don't think you're a goldfish."

"Uh-huh." Asterra sighed and sunk into a slouch.

"Honest! I really don't!"

"Uh-huh," she replied, curling into a ball and turning her back to Gon.

"Asterra~ please don't be angry!"

The Resca asserted that she was not angry. To the more perceptive individuals, however, it was obvious that she was sulking.

=o=o=o=

— **3 minutes left—**

Asterra folded her blanket into a neat square and placed in her backpack and then her packing was complete. She straightened her hoodie and joined the other applicants, who were already standing in front of the door.

Six sets of anxious eyes focused on the clock as it turned to two minutes, then one minute.

Then zero.

There was a blare and the sound of the lock being undone, then—

The door opened, and Gon ran through.

"Gon, wait!" Leorio yelled and followed suit.

Asterra lunged for the middle position of the pack—the safest place to be in a sense, since she would not be exposed to attacks from the front or the back—and ran through the doorway, heart beating with anticipation of what would come next.

=o=o=o=

The next couple of hours was like something she had seen in a movie about an adventuring archaeologist.

Riding down haphazard rails in a minecart, running down halls whose floor suddenly started to crumble behind them, and now sprinting to put as much distance between them and a giant rolling boulder, to boot.

THUD!

Asterra placed a hand on a wall to steady herself and catch her breath.

"We've only got an hour left," Leorio puffed as they came up to a door and read the sign tacked onto it. "If you want to enter, press O. The hell…?"

Everybody pressed a button on their watch—six O, one X. At that Leorio grabbed Tonpa by the shirt, roaring, "How many times are you going to pull this shit?!" The moment Tonpa uttered words in his defense the taller applicant cut him off. "I bet you did, you deadweight! You're the only one who would—"

"Sorry Leorio, I pushed the wrong button," came Gon's plaintive apology.

Leorio eyed the boy. "It was you?"

Gon nodded.

"Tch. Watch it, would you? We don't have much time." The applicant then let Tonpa's shirt go.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Tonpa crossed his arms. "You just accused me wrongly and you're not going to apologize for it?"

"It's your fault for doing things that make you suspicious. Why should I be the one to apologize?"

"You make it sound like I'm the only deadweight in this group. Whose fault was it that we're so pressed for time now?"

 _And there he goes again,_ Asterra thought. _Stirring up shit for no reason._

"Leorio," Kurapika started in a calm voice, but his hand was shaken off by Leorio and a venomous "Shut up!"

The youth took up a boxing position, and Tonpa mirrored the action with his own stance. Gon quickly inserted himself between the two. "Come on, you guys! It was my fault for pushing the wrong button!"

"Let's go, Gon," Killua muttered and followed suit.

"If they want to waste time fighting each other, leave them behind," Asterra said. _Less competition, the better._

"Killua! Asterra!" the Whale Island native called out.

The Resca walked through the doorway and took stock of the room. It was medium-sized with the statue of a woman with her arms stabbed by needles loomed over the two doors on the opposite wall. The other two stone walls were covered by weapons and there were three sets of chains on one wall.

Whatever event happened in this room would not end well for three of the applicants.

"Hey Gon! Looks like the goal is near!"

Everyone entered and silently read the sign. _This is the branching point of the majority rule. Are you ready? O or X._

Once again, someone pressed the X button. The result made Leorio growl and Kurapika uncharacteristically raise his voice. "Enough, Leorio! We don't have time for this!"

"In that case," an unfamiliar voice said, "please choose a path. There are two paths: One path that will allow all seven of you to pass but is difficult and long. The other is short and easy, but only four people can pass. In addition, the long and arduous path will take a minimum of forty-five hours. The easy path will take three minutes. If you prefer the long path, press O. If you want the short path, press X. In the event X is chosen, three people must be chained to the wall in order to open the door. Those three will fail the exam."

"The Examiner's stocked this room pretty well," Killua said. "I'd bet there's every weapon under the sun here."

Asterra glanced at the walls. Polearms, axes, swords, knives. All weapons she had experience with, though she preferred knives and swords. The wall behind her was the knife wall and a hunting knife gleamed on a set of racks, a wicked gleam gracing its edge. The shape looked similar to a Resca knife, but there were slight differences in the edge and curve of the hilt.

If there was to be a fight, she would use that or a sword. The knife looked sturdier than her penknife, and this room wasn't big enough for everyone to be swinging around a polearm. Better to trust her reflexes, get in close for a killing blow. She inwardly cursed another Resca tradition about the Hunter Exam. _Why the hell are we forbidden from taking Resca weapons with us? It's what we've trained with all this time, after all…_

"So we need to fight to decide who will pass." Kurapika said.

"Let me make this clear," Leorio started. "I'm going to press X. But I have no intention of staying behind. I'm going to take whatever it takes to be one of the four…"

"Quite the shameless one, aren't you? If it weren't for your mess-up back there, we could have taken the long path. Shouldn't you take responsibility and stay behind. And speaking of who to leave behind…" Tonpa turned to Kikiri and Asterra. "Your pet rat isn't even an applicant. Why don't we leave him behind as well? You'll get to see him again at the end of the phase."

Kikiri puffed up at the mention of him being a rat. Asterra's voice dipped into a snarl at the mention of leaving Kikiri behind. "Out of the question. Voice never said the applicants would make it out alive—the three chained on the walls could be killed for all we know. Still would be considered 'not passing.'"

"You're a paranoid one, aren't you?" Tonpa drawled. "But everyone, aren't I right? Is there anything wrong?"

Silence, then—

"Hold on!" Gon said. "I'm going to press O. We've come this far with each other's help; I want all of us to pass too. Even if it's a risk, I want to give it a shot!"

"This isn't what you call a risk," Killua drawled. "We don't even have an hour left—it's a guaranteed fail if you take that long path. There's only one choice if you want to pass this exam."

"And there you have it," Leorio said.

"Now we have to choose which four pass. Well, I'm planning on being part of that four with you, Gon."

Seven sets of eyes exchanged glares, then—

The hair on her body stood on edge and Asterra snapped her head to Tonpa, simultaneously taking a step back at the spike in malice.

CRASH!

Steel bit into concrete as an axe-blade crashed into the place Leorio had been standing moments before.

"Tonpa! That's dirty!"

The heavyset man fixed his grip on the polearm. "Dirty? This is a fight, not a tea party!"

 _So you do say some good things from time to time._ Gears clicked into place and Asterra took the knife off the rack, feeling its weight in her palm to become accustomed to the weapon as quickly as possible.

Tonpa continued to swing the polearm around. Leorio danced around the blows and reached for a polearm of his own.

"Stop this, you two!" Kurapika yelled, hands on his wooden blades.

Large brown eyes looked on, brows furrowed with concern. "Come on, let's do this together!" Gon pleaded.

"It's too late for that!" Tonpa roared, another swing. Leorio dodged and the blade sunk into the wall.

Gon bit his lip then looked to his left and gulped. "Asterra…?"

The Resca looked back at him, knife in a practiced grip.

"You too?" Kurapika asked.

"I was half-expecting this to happen," she said, sliding her finger along the edge of the blade as if appraising the quality of the metal. Frigid, lifeless eyes regarded the reflection in the blade. "They used to do this kind of thing in Training."

The Kurta swallowed, while Gon looked to her with worried eyes. "But there's a way…we can't, after all this…"

"But humans can." Her voice was flat. "Alliances change with the situation, Gon. Very few non-relatives will follow you unconditionally—and those that do are idiots." The Resca turned her attention to Tonpa and Leorio. "We can pick those two off while they're distracted."

"Didn't expect that from you, Goldfish." Killua said coldly, his fingernails sharpening.

"Do I look like a saint to you?" A thin, sardonic smile crept across her face. "I'll take the fat one." She went through simulations—cutting tendons, stabbing a foot, slicing off fingers…

Killua cracked a hand. "Fine with me."

"WAIT!" Gon grabbed Asterra's sweatshirt.

She turned back to him. "Unhappy endings are more common than happy ones. Learn to adapt and be the last one standing or you'll end up a corpse."

"No!" The boy shook his head vigorously. "I'm not going to accept any of these endings—I'll create my own one!"

His words, the conviction in his brown eyes, yanked her attention towards him.

"I have an idea to have everyone pass. But I need them to stop fighting."

"That's going to be difficult," Kurapika said, eyeing the continued fight of polearms.

She looked down at Gon, at the fight, then replied. "I can do it."

"What?" Kurapika exclaimed. "But the speed of their blows and the weight of the weapons—"

"Don't underestimate me, Kurta." Her eyes sharpened into a severe gaze. "Gon, tell me your idea. If it's good enough, I'll stop the fight."

Gon looked up to her. "You won't hurt them?"

"No promises."

Gon whispered his idea into her ear.

She thought for several moments, then the corner of her lip curled upwards into a half-smile. "Hmm…."

"Well?"

"Consider that fight stopped." She returned the blade to its rack and went to the sword section. "You get the plan, Kikiri?"

"Yep. Sounds like it's worth the risk."

Asterra nodded, testing various weapons for strength and ease of use. After twenty seconds she found a blade propped up against a wall in the corner that was still sheathed. She tested its weight and when satisfied, turned her attention back to the fight.

"Don't get turned into _sashimi_ , Goldfish." Despite his words, Killua's voice lacked any concern. Nor could the Resca detect the tone of mischief that she'd come to associate with him over the past two days. A quick glance at the silver-haired boy revealed him looking at her with narrowed eyes—eyes that aimed to measure exactly what she was capable of.

She threw a wolfish grin over her shoulder at him, then her features smoothed over. "Standby," she breathed. The Dokujo nodded and leaped off her shoulder at the words, slinking to the walls, though he didn't stray too far from the fight.

Down, diagonal, up, left; she studied the pattern of their strikes for a few moments, trying to get a feel for the pattern. Then Leorio swung the polearm in a familiar way and she felt it coming—an opening to exploit. The two weapons were following a familiar path, the arcs of their swings a pattern she had seen before.

_Now._

A blur of orange and white dove into the fray.


	23. Snipers and Traps

As she entered the two combatant's attack radius, Leorio took a few steps back to avoid a strike that would have cleaved his foot in two. The axe-blade of the halberd continued its path, cloaked in too much momentum to be stopped easily.

It was almost too easy to cut in between the two. _Hadn't expected another combatant, then. Naïve_.

By the time the metal blade of Tonpa's weapon was inches away from the stone floor Asterra had materialized in the space between the two combatants. Her foot rose then slammed into the spine of Tonpa's blade, causing the halberd to sink into the floor far enough to be stuck for a couple of seconds _._ Asterra's eyes flashed to the left, to Leorio, to the weapon coming down hard and fast on her ten o'clock.

_Can't dodge._

Left hand on the sheath and right hand on the handle of the sword, she exposed a small portion of the blade from its sheath as she threw the weapon above her head.

CLANG!

The curved blade of the polearm and the spike coming out of it snared the blade, just as the weapon had been designed to do. Shockwaves raced down her arm and shuddered her bones upon contact. For half a moment the Resca gritted her teeth, muscles fighting to keep the weapon from cutting into her skull, until—

Shifting her weight and sharply pushing with her left arm guided the polearm's blade to the right. Momentum and gravity dragged the weapon down and away; Leorio's arms followed his weapon, exposing the applicant's side and a weakness to exploit. Black shoes and tanned skin blurred into a side kick to the kidney that sent the young man stumbling backwards—far enough to get him out her and Tonpa's attack radius. Knees nearly kissed the stone floor as Leorio doubled over, clutching his side and breathing heavily.

Her lips shaped into an "O" shape and whistled a single note, sharp and crisp. Moments later a red-brown streak was spiraling up Leorio's body with a snarl, sealing his movements before he had a chance to recover and attack her.

Robbed of the ability to use his limbs for balance, Leorio tumbled to the floor…face-first. Muffled swearing streamed out of Leorio's mouth at the pain.

Resca and Dokujo met eyes; the latter nodded crisply in affirmation.

Then her instincts were screaming, reacting to the explosion of malice behind her, and she knew what Tonpa was doing even before a flurry of voices were shouting her name. Right hand shoved the sword back into its sheath as her body dropped into a crouch, and not a moment too soon. The halberd shrieked overhead, slicing a few strands of hair that straggled in the air. A pivot later she was facing forward again, enemy and weapon in the middle of her field of view.

A ripple of cloth at the elbow, a shift in the targeting gaze directed at her. The halberd descended upon her with the unwavering conviction of a headsman's axe.

But Asterra was no prisoner.

With the sword held securely by its scabbard, unchained legs launched her into Tonpa's blindspot. The man whirled towards her, desperate to keep the Resca in his line of sight.

 _Too slow._ Tonpa's head snapped back as the sheath in her left hand hammered into his jaw twice, each blow landing with a satisfying crack.

For a dazed few moments the man was unsteady as a newborn fawn, teetering and tottering from the two consecutive blows. Then feet straightened and legs steadied with the return of his senses and he was whirling again to keep Asterra in his sights as his ears caught the sound of steel being freed from leather—

—only to come face-to-face with the point of a sword.

"Ding ding. End of the round," the Resca said, mouth quirking into a small smirk.

Tonpa snarled and his arm moved to for another strike. In response Asterra snapped her wrist so that the sword edge was a hairsbreadth away from Tonpa's neck…and a flick of the wrist away from making an incision that would bleed him dry in minutes. The smirk disappeared from her face and her voice dipped a few pitches. "Don't be stupid, Tonpa. Drop the weapon."

Said applicant glared at her, large stomach heaving with the effort of swinging the halberd around for a good two to three minutes. His gasping breaths accompanied by pained ones from behind her were the only sounds of the room.

"Tonpa-san," Gon pleaded. "Please, let's stop this."

The man glanced at Gon and the other applicants, then fixed his small eyes back to Asterra. And they continued to roam the room, looking for a way out, a way to turn the tables. _Guess you need some incentive._ The Resca moved the blade again, making the blade edge touch the skin enough to make a bead of blood appear on his skin. "If you want to pass this phase, drop the weapon. I won't say it again."

She saw Kurapika purse his lips in her peripherals.

"Looks like I have no choice," Tonpa said, letting the weapon fall from his hands. Wooden staff and steel blade took turns clattering on stone until they were silenced by Asterra's sneakered foot. The same foot kicked the weapon to the side, towards Kurapika.

She withdrew the sword and stepped away warily, practiced eyes vigilant for any sign of a sucker punch. Just because he said he was surrendering did not necessarily mean that he meant it. This man held no honor code when it came to fighting, after all; it would not surprise her if he attacked her the moment she turned her back. The way he looked at her told her so.

The man harrumphed and took a step away from her, that glare still present in his eyes. Asterra answered with an unwavering gaze of her own.

…

…

And then Leorio's ticked-off shriek reverberated in the room, shattering the tension-wrought silence. "Get off me, you overgrown rat!"

Kikiri silently maintained the pressure, not even bothering to correct Leorio. Only when Asterra whistled two notes did he loosen up, shrinking back to his normal size.

Leorio stood up, lips curled in a snarl and hand clutching his side. "What the hell, Asterra! Were you trying to break my ribs?!"

"Quit your bitching; I didn't kick you that hard." Practiced movements lead the blade back into its sheath with a clean _shick_ and she lowered her free arm. Kikiri clambered up it, his claws needling her skin slightly.

"Explain yourself," Tonpa demanded.

She pointed her thumb back at the young applicant clad in green. "Gon has an idea that's worth a shot. It requires all the manpower we can get." She turned back to him. "I got their attention; up to you now."

Gon nodded, a smile on his face. "Thanks, Asterra!"

She nodded once and took a couple of steps towards outside of the room as everybody turned their attention to the Whale Island native.

"So, here's my idea…"

=o=o=o=

It was actually a brilliant plan.

"The stone this room is made of is really soft. So let's vote for the door that allows everybody to pass, then use the weapons to make a hole in the wall."

Nobody had argued with it. Tonpa had not even tried to screw things up by pressing the wrong button. In fact, within ten minutes of Gon announcing the plan everybody was digging a hole into the wall.

It had taken them a good portion of their leftover time, but true to the examiner's words the other path lead to a shorter path—a slide, to be exact. After three minutes of sliding at breakneck speed, the applicants were scrambling to their feet and running towards the exit.

Kurapika, Killua, and Gon were the first to get through, a voice announcing their completion of the third phase. Asterra had the misfortune of being stuck behind Tonpa and Leorio. The pair was jostling each other to be the first one to pass through the door.

"Thirty seconds remain. Leorio, applicant 403, is 29th to pass. Tonpa, applicant 16, is 30th to pass. Total time: 71 hours and 59 minutes."

Why wasn't her name being announced? Had she not crossed the finish line?

"10 seconds remaining."

 _I don't have time for this_. She pressed one palm against the backs of each applicant in front of her and shoved. The trio in front had barely enough time to step to the side before Tonpa and Leorio went flying through the doorway and crashed into the wall on the other side of the room.

"Applicant number 406, Asterra, has officially passed!" the speaker announced as Asterra walked through the doorway, dusting off her hands.

"Dammit, Asterra!" Leorio screeched as he picked himself up off the floor. "Was that necessary?!"

"You were in the way," she shrugged.

"You could've just asked!"

"This way was faster."

Leorio muttered something under his breath, then winced and looked at his hands. "Man, that was rough…but all of us cleared the last phase." Leorio scruffled Gon's hair. "All thanks to you, Gon!"

" _I'll make my own ending!"_

Gon's determined words echoed in her mind—words that she had thought were only fancies born from optimism. But much to her surprise, his optimism had pulled them all through the third phase without having to cull the herd. She observed the grinning Whale Island native from afar as the other applicants of the group expressed their gratitude through words and actions until a resounding beep echoed throughout the room.

"The third phase of the exam is now over," a flat, feminine voice announced. "Thirty applicants, of which one has died, have passed. For the other applicants—please exit the Trick Tower using the door that is about to open."

And when that door opened to let light and air spill through, the Resca nearly cried out with joy.

Sunlight.

Sweet, blessed sunlight and fresh air.

The door lead to a cliff leaning over an ocean of deep, dark blue. Several applicants stretched and breathed in deeply, relishing the salty air. After three days of breathing the stale air of the tower there was nothing greater, more satisfying than those breaths.

"Ladies and gentleman, congratulations on escaping the Trick Tower." The man who spoke sported a purple Mohawk and large glasses and had a reedy voice that Asterra recognized—it was the person from the speaker system. "There are two more phases left. The next one will take place on that island over there—Zevil Island." The man snapped and another man in a yellow shirt rolled a cart over with a box on it. "You will all be drawing lots."

"For what?" a voice asked.

The man's glasses glinted in the sun as he smirked. "To decide hunter and prey. There are twenty-seven numbered cards in here, all with your ID numbers on it. Now, please draw a card in the order by which you exited the tower. Would the first to exit the tower come up?"

Hisoka stepped up.

 _Damn. He survived._ Not without a couple of wounds, though—there was a gash on his left shoulder and right side.

All applicants drew a card.

Asterra looked at the card she had drawn—red on one side, white on the other. The white side had a sort of adhesive paper on it that could be peeled off.

"Now that everybody has taken a card, remove the adhesive paper from it."

Everybody obeyed and blinked at the number that was revealed by the action.

"The applicant with that number is your prey."

=o=o=o=

" _The objective of this next phase is to obtain six points during a one-week period on Zevil Island. Your own tag is worth three points; your prey's number tag is worth three. Anybody else's number tag is worth one point. It doesn't matter how you get the tag. Trick them, torture them, kill them…the choice is yours."_

"The how is up to us, huh…" Asterra leaned the back of her head against the side of the boat, eyes taking in the expanse of blue above them and the gulls that flew through. The sword she had taken from the last room of the third phase (despite Kurapika's objections) lay in her lap, rope tied in secure knots at certain spots along the scabbard to form a bastardized version of a sword belt. Slip knots would also allow her to enlarge the loop and carry the sword on her back in case she had to do any climbing. It was not a work of art by any means but it would keep her hands free.

The project had kept her busy for a good hour since the start of their voyage to this so-called Zevil island. Only low, hushed voices exchanged words; less talkative applicants simply stared at each other in an attempt to figure out which person was their target. Even the chirpy voice and cheery attitude of their guide, Khara, or the fact that they were automatically qualified for next year's Hunter Exam could barely put a dent in the tense atmosphere.

"So don't feel bad if you don't pass this year, because you can always try again next year!" Khara had chirped. Nobody smiled at the words; they only seem to stared off into space or into the floorboards of the deck…strategizing for the seven-day battle that would start soon.

Leorio straightened up. "Hey…we might have gone through a lot together, but if either of you were my target—hypothetically speaking—I'd still hunt you down, no matter what."

Sea-green eyes looked up to the dark-haired applicant, regarding him coolly. Leorio squirmed under the gaze slightly.

The Kurta's reply was verbal. "Of course; I wouldn't expect anything less. I'd say the same thing if you were my target."

Worried dark eyes snapped to the blond. "Am I your target?"

"I was speaking hypothetically." A slight smile graced Kurapika's face. "Don't worry; you're not my target. You're not my target either, Asterra."

Leorio's shoulders slumped as tension left them. "That's nice to hear…oh, and neither of you are my target!"

"Good to know," the Resca replied. Silence ensued as Leorio and Kurapika turned towards her, eyes expectant. She paid back the courtesy given by the two applicants with information. "Neither of you are my target." Leorio's shoulders slumped with relief once more; Kurapika nodded.

Asterra's target was applicant number 339. As for who that was, she had no idea. It was definitely not Gon, Kurapika, Leorio, Killua, or Tonpa; spending 72 hours with them had been more than enough time to memorize their tag numbers. It wasn't the female applicant with the sniper rifle (number 80) or Hisoka (number 44) either. Since there was a total of 29 applicants, that left 21 other possibilities.

Those were bad odds. Depending on the size of this Zevil Island, finding applicants could be difficult. Combined with the probability of a person she ran into being her target being less than five percent, trying to find her target would be difficult. So instead she started brainstorming how to hunt down three applicants and steal their tags within seven days.

=o=

Towards the stern of the ship, Killua took a seat next to Gon. "Hey…what number did you get?"

"What about you?" Gon replied back.

"Not telling."

The two were silent for a moment, then turned to each other and grinned.

"Don't worry; you're not my target," Killua reassured.

"You aren't either."

"Then why don't we show each other's numbers at the same time?" When Gon nodded in agreement, both of them pulled out their cards at the same time.

A tanned hand held out 44; a pale hand held out 199.

Killua's eyes widened at the sight of Gon's number. "Oh jeez…you have really bad luck, don't you?"

"You think so?" Gon laughed. "But who's number 199?"

"You don't know either, then. Man, this is a pain. I didn't bother to remember anybody else's numbers, and everybody put their tags away before I could check." Killua huffed, then cocked an eyebrow at Gon who was currently staring straight ahead, eyes full of conviction and limbs trembling. "Gon."

The Whale Island native blinked.

"Are you happy or afraid?"

He blinked. "Both. In a straight-up fight, I wouldn't stand a chance. But if I only need to steal his tag, there should be a way to steal it. I have a chance. Going up against Hisoka scares me a little, but I think it's worth a try."

Killua smiled. "I see." He stood up and picked up his skateboard. "Well, let's both do our best, yeah?"

"Yeah!" Gon beamed. as

Before the silver-haired boy took two full steps, though, he turned around to ask a question that he did not expect an answer to. "Gon, how did you meet Goldfish?" Killua asked.

"Killua, Asterra doesn't like it when you call her that."

"All the more reason to call her 'Goldfish.' So, where did you meet her?"

"Kurapika, Leorio, and I met her at Port Dolle. She came in on a different ship."

"Do you know where she's from?"

"Asterra never said where she's from." Gon cocked his head. "Why?"

"She fights like someone used to fighting."

"Ohh…Well, Asterra did say that she had military training."

"Military training?"

"Yeah. Apparently everybody in her clan has to do it. Then they have to pass three phases of the Hunter Exam to become an official adult."

 _Clan...military training…._ A memory stirred inside his head at the words. "Did Goldfish say how long she trained?"

"Asterra's sixteen, so…" Gon started counting fingers. "Since ten, I think."

Killua's eyes narrowed at his words. "Huh. You sure that's what she said?"

"Mmm-hmm. I remember because I thought that six years was a really long time to train."

The assassin chuckled at Gon's statement. Six years was nothing _;_ for almost double that amount of time Killua's family had hammered into him the skills required to become a master assassin. His fate had been sealed (in his family's eyes, at least) ever since the day he was born with the iconic Zoldyck traits of silver hair and dark blue eyes.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing; don't worry about it." He grinned at Gon. "Stay alive out there, all right?"

"You too," the dark-haired boy chirped back.

=o=o=o=

Two hours later, the boat set its anchor into the water and the gangplank hit land. From there the applicants disembarked in the order at which they completed the third phase. There were two-minute-intervals between each applicant's disembarkation.

As the last applicant to complete the third phase, Asterra was also the last to leave the ship. The first thing she had decided to do on the boat ride was get a good lay of the land. So she slung the sword across her back and proceeded to climb a particularly high tree.

"Let's use the first day to scout and find candidates for a home territory," she said as she sketched a rough outline of the island using pen and paper she had taken from the room in Trick Tower. A few quick strokes later major landmarks appeared—a plateau, narrow bands of sand and forest that connected two halves of the island.

"Looking for the usual?" Kikiri asked.

Asterra nodded—"the usual" included sources of fresh water, a defendable shelter—as she made a mark of where they had disembarked and figured out which way north was. "Let's split up and meet at the other end of the island by sunset. Keep out of sight; nobody should recognize you, but you never know. And try not to become someone's lunch."

"Yeah, yeah. See ya." With that Kikiri climbed down the tree and disappeared into the grass.

The Resca shimmied down the tree after him and set off in another direction. It was about an hour or so after splitting up that Asterra came across the first victim of the phase: a man in purple laying face-down in a large grassy area. From the sound of his breathing he was alive, but he made no movement in response to her approach.

A closer look revealed a laceration on the shoulder. That should not have been enough to incapacitate him in such a way…which meant poison. She clicked her tongue. Poison-coated weapons would be a problem. Training had included building up immunity to certain poisons— _commonly used ones,_ as Instructors had said—but building up immunity to every single toxin in the world was nigh impossible. If the poison came from some obscure source, she wouldn't have immunity and it would be over for her.

She walked to his feet and poked at his shoes warily with her sword. When there was no movement she moved over to the man's side and started rummaging through his bag, ready to leap back at any sign of movement.

As expected, no tag. But there was food, water, a lighter, first aid kit, and other knickknacks left in the bag. _Nothing usable taken?_ So this unconscious person's hunter wasn't struggling for resources, then. She rolled her shoulders at the prickling sensation of the back of her neck as she mentally took inventory of her possessions and how much space she had in her bag. She grabbed the food and the lighter (the latter would make it easier to make fires) and reached for—

Fwwoosh!

Faster than she could react, something hurtled through the air and sunk into the ground at her nine o'clock. In her peripherals she saw gold flash in the earth.

The sight sent her heart into overdrive.

Feet and hands scrambled to get her into a standing position, then she was making a beeline for the trees.

The only source of cover in sight.

 _Shit, shit, shit! Asterra, you idiot!_ Another shriek passed by but her legs did not fail as she dashed through the tall grass madly as a hare, zigzagging and pivoting in odd directions to throw off the gunner's aim. A breath later she heard another bullet but felt no pain.

Ten seconds later she had broken through the line of trees, running across ground mottled by canopy-cast shadows. Only then did she finally slow down, leaning against a tree for support as her ragged breaths returned to normal and the ache in her chest lessened.

 _You fucking amateur!_ a voice berated inside her head, and for good reason. She had been so focused on tags and scavenging what she could from the fallen applicant that she had failed to take into account the risks of staying in an open area—especially when she knew there was still a sniper in the remaining applicants. It was a rookie mistake, and one that had gotten her "killed" one too many times in the paintball matches and other mock battles she had taken part in.

Another deep breath to calm her nerves; she unzipped her hoodie slightly and grasped her dogtag. _Can't pass if I'm dead. Got to be smarter._ The Resca then jogged off, eyes and ears alert.

Nothing eventful occurred after that. The rest of the day consisted of Asterra making notes of sources of drinkable water, of possible places for shelter and finding relative locations. At dusk she met up with Kikiri and took shelter in a small cave in a cliff face, where the two shared information about their findings over dinner. It was more difficult to incorporate Kikiri's findings into the map since their sense of distance, but eventually a crude map of sorts was made. Asterra's contributions were mostly centered around defensible positions and possible candidates for a "home base"; Kikiri's contributions had to do with wildlife and water sources. He also pointed out good hunting spots, which the Resca was thankful for since she only had enough food left for one, maybe two more meals.

Asterra then found a somewhat comfortable place to sleep and spread her blanket out over the area. She took off her hoodie—the air was rather hot and humid—and made it into a pillow.

"You got watch?" she asked sleepily.

"Yeah." Kikiri replied.

"Good night." With that she closed her eyes, finding comfort in the grip of her newfound blade and the ball of fur snuggled against her stomach.

=o=o=o=

**Day 2**

"Aaand there we go!" Leorio stepped back to observe his handiwork: a sign that read "Please don't feed!" Tied to sign was Tonpa (whose face was severely swollen due to a kick to the face by Kurapika) and in front of him was a tied-up Sommy. "All right; I've got my tag back."

"We also now have the tags for #16 and #118 as well," Kurapika added.

"Thanks for the assist, by the way. I didn't realize your target was Tonpa."

"No need to thank me," Kurapika added as he put the tags in his bag. "When Tonpa attacked you from behind, I stayed hidden so he wouldn't detect me."

Leorio narrowed his eyes.

"I figured there'd be no point in teaming up in a person who couldn't evade that level of attack. I'd say you barely passed."

"You really are full of yourself, aren't you?" Leorio muttered. "Well, I agree that we're better off as a team. Let's stick together for the remaining four days."

"Sounds good. I've got six points now, so we need to find your target's tag now since neither of us have 118 as our target."

"It still might come in handy, though," Leorio said as the two started walking. "We better stay on our toes."

"Says the one who got his tag stolen."

"Yes, yes, you're absolutely right. I'll shut up now, Your Grace," Leorio replied.

It turned out that being followed was not the only thing they needed to watch out for. After three hours of traipsing through the forest and across sandy beaches, the ambient sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves was interrupted by a harsh snapping sound and a startled yelp. The Kurta whirled towards Leorio to see him dangling up-side-down from a tree bough by a piece of rope snared around his ankle.

For a moment the two applicants stared at each other, eyes wide with shock. Then Leorio was hissing profanities and curling upwards in an attempt to undo the knot. Long fingers clawed at the rope in vain, attesting to the sturdiness of the trap.

Kurapika eyed the bushes around them, seeing if he could discern any other traps; he would be no help to Leorio or himself if he got caught as well, after all. But the foliage was too thick for him to see any other traps. It would not be a good idea for him to move. "Use your knife!"

The dark-haired applicant started searching his pockets, a panicked expression manifesting itself. When the hurried search yielded nothing, Leorio looked down with a squint to see the pocketknife in the branches beneath him. With a montage of swear words he grabbed the weapon, flipped the blade out, and started sawing at the rope.

A sigh of relief escaped Kurapika as he took out his sword and used it to prod at the ground before him in case there were more snares around.

A rustle of bushes from behind made him whirl in place. Grey eyes scanned the line of trees warily for the source of the sound.

"What's wrong?" Leorio asked as he took a break from sawing. Kurapika turned towards him, index finger against mouth in the universal "be quiet" sign.

Another rustle.

Leorio froze and started to look around as well.

"Keep cutting," Kurapika whispered, creeping towards the source of rustling. One wooden sword searching for traps; the other held in a firm grip, ready to swing down.

When the bushes rustled for a third time, the blade descended.

* * *

**Thanks for reading to the end!**

**-Rhyss**


	24. Funeral x Ideology

**This is really late but…**

**ASDFLAKSJDF Togashi released new chapters! Of course he's probably going to go on hiatus again, but he released new chapters!**

**I now have newfound respect (read: terror) for Hisoka and Chrollo. I mean, I knew they were strong, but** _**holy hell.** _

**Anyway, before I start: thank you to all who fav/follow Lattices and a really big thank you to those who leave reviews! It is absolutely heart-warming to see that people are still taking time out of their day to read this story. It really means a lot to me that I've been able to create a character many people enjoy reading about and also want to know more about.**

**And now, for what you're all here for. Enjoy!**

* * *

Kurapika felt not the resistance of his blade making contact with flesh.

Yet the strike still elicited a yowl from the bushes. "Hey! Watch it!"

Blond brows furrowed at the familiar voice, then suspicions were cleared when a familiar face popped out of the foliage. "Kikiri?!" he exclaimed.

"Yeesh, nice to see you too," the Dokujo grumbled.

The Kurta's shoulders relaxed slightly. "You shouldn't have snuck up on us like that."

Kikiri climbed out on the bushes and sat on a tree branch, chortling. "Do you ask the birds to stop flying too?"

"…Point taken."

"Hey, hey!" Leorio prompted. "I'm hanging from a tree upside-down?"

"Of course you get caught." Kikiri said as he glanced at the hanging applicant. "You can go help him; there's only one trap in this bush."

"How do you know that?"

"Because Asterra and I set that up this morning to catch boars. She said that with how thick the rope was, catching applicants was possible too."

The two applicants' faces paled at the words. "Do you know how to release the trap?" Kurapika asked.

"Nope. But cutting the rope should do it." Kikiri scratched the back of his ear with a paw.

Kurapika used Leorio's knife to cut through the rope and the youth fell to the floor in an ungraceful heap.

The dark-haired applicant then stepped out of the bushes and brushed himself off.

"Thank you," Kurapika said.

"Glad I could help," Kikiri smiled. "Hey…are you two working together?"

"Yeah," Leorio replied.

"Want to work together with me and Asterra? You're not her targets anyway. Or if you don't want to join up, we can at least exchange information."

Leorio and Kurapika looked at each other. "Where is she now?" Leorio asked.

"Probably checking on other traps. I can take you two to our home base and we can wait for her there."

The two thought for a moment, then Kurapika said to Leorio, "I say we cooperate. She's a safer candidate to team up with when compared to Tonpa, at the very least."

"Safe?" Leorio narrowed his eyes. "You saw what she did back in that tower! I have a bruise from that kick!"

"Asterra is dangerous and won't hesitate to fight us, but she's here to pass. As long as we don't give her a reason to fight, she'll cooperate. When we were in that room for fifty hours, who were you more worried about attacking you in your sleep—Tonpa or Asterra?"

Leorio sighed. "Tonpa, by a long shot."

"Exactly."

"How can you be so sure about all that, though?"

"I pay attention to my surroundings."

"…Why do I get the feeling you exist to troll me?"

Kurapika's lips curled upwards into a small smile.

"So?" Kikiri asked.

The blonde nodded. "Yes. We'd like to work together with you and Asterra."

At that Kikiri gave them a toothy smile. "Great! Follow me, then. And grab that rope used in the trap as well."

"Why?"

"Consider it a…peace offering. Asterra'll still get angry for cutting the rope, though. 'You're wasting resources!' and all that."

"And how can we avoid that?" Leorio asked.

The Dokujo flicked his tail. "I dunno. Make yourself seem useful?"

Leorio just stared at Kikiri, mouth agape. "Don't you want us to all work together?"

"Yeah. But in the end it's Asterra's call. She's the one taking the test; I'm just here for the ride."

The dark-haired applicant shook his head in exasperation.

=o=o=o=

Asterra did raise her voice when she was given back the rope fragment. The target of her fury, however, was not Kurapika; she had nothing negative to say to the person who had the ingenuity to dip the cut end in tree resin to prevent the rope from fraying completely.

No, the target of her fury was Kikiri.

"I told you how to disarm the trap in case something like this happened!" Her voice reverberated inside the large cave that was their home base. There was no worry about other people hearing because a) the cave was near a sea so the sounds would be drowned out by waves and b) a tree grew over the cave opening, its thick roots forming the foundation for a curtain of flora that almost hid the entrance completely.

"But I'd need opposable thumbs to do that!" the Dokujo whined, then stuck up his paw. "Do you see any thumbs?!"

"You can _talk_ , can't you? You could have explained to Kurapika how to disarm the trap."

"Yeah, well the information wasn't useful for me. So why bother to remember?"

"Ever heard of the words 'just in case'?" The Resca face-palmed at Kikiri's words. "You're absolutely hopeless."

"I wouldn't say that…" his ears drooped and he pulled on his "forgive me because I'm cute" face.

She opened her mouth but no words came out. Open, close, open, close…

A snicker escaped from Kikiri, despite the fact that he was on the receiving end of a severe gaze. "Heh, you really do look like a goldfish when you do that."

Leorio gaped at the Dokujo's insouciance, wondering if Kikiri had a death wish.

Then again, the creature was probably just accustomed to these lectures.

"Don't you start," she hissed. "One's enough." Asterra dug her fingers into her hair and took a deep breath, turning towards the other two applicants who were bracing themselves. "Thanks for saving the rope," she said in an even voice, holding up the cut end which had been dipped in tree resin. "It's nice to know at least _somebody_ cares about resources."

The two's shoulders sagged as the tension left them. "Glad to help." Kurapika said.

"Idiocy aside, Kikiri has a good point. Swapping information isn't a bad idea." The Resca kneeled to pick up a small boar and carry it fireman's style. "Can we talk while I work? I need to get this carved and out in the sun to dry it."

"Need help?" the blonde asked.

She looked at the two other applicants, as if sizing them up. Then she held up four dead squirrels by their tails.

"Either of you know how to field dress?"

=o=

Within the hour, the three applicants had set up a formation for making jerky on a small, secluded beach.

A makeshift rack made of sticks lashed together by vines stood above a campfire. Strips of meat hung on the sticks, the hot noonday sun sucking moisture from the meat and the smoke of the campfire keeping insects away from the still-raw meat. The rack also had a section that the squirrels could be placed against to cook.

The four were now currently waiting for the squirrels—field-dressed courtesy of Kurapika—to fully cook.

In all honesty Asterra had been surprised when Kurapika had volunteered to prepare the squirrels. With his delicate features and non-callused hands, he seemed like the last person to know how to do so (second to Leorio; Asterra knew a city slicker when she saw one). When she pointed the fact out, the blonde had curtly replied that he hailed from the forests of Lukso province.

That made sense, since his skill was something she would associate with forest folk. What did not make sense, though, was his slightly cold attitude towards her afterwards.

"What's his problem?" she muttered.

"I'd say he's offended," Kikiri whispered back to her.

"About what? Because I asked him where he came from?"

"Seriously, Asterra?" Leorio rolled his eyes.

"What?"

"It's what you said afterwards," Leorio replied. "The 'You field dress well for someone with city hands'?"

"What's wrong with that sentence?"

Leorio facepalmed with a groan.

"Being tactful is not a strong suit of yours, is it?" Kurapika observed one of the squirrels carefully, then, apparently satisfied with what he saw, started passing them out.

She frowned as she took a squirrel. "That was supposed to be a compliment."

"Then your social skills are about as competent as a goldfish's."

Asterra bristled at the comment and threw back a sharp retort—both made the corner of Kurapika's mouth tug upwards into a small, victorious smile—then bit into the squirrel. The rest of the applicants started eating as well (Kikiri had already devoured his squirrel and was currently licking the bones clean).

Asterra and Kurapika ate theirs without much ceremony, while Leorio nibbled the flesh and seemed confused about where to start eating. When he looked over to the other two for a little help, the young man went pale upon seeing how both of them were eating some of the organs of the squirrel. He almost turned green upon seeing Asterra use her thumbs to crush the squirrel's skull and start to scoop out the brain with her fingers.

The oldest of the trio did not eat much more after that.

=o=

After the meal, the more urgent business of targets was discussed. By the end of the discussion, two conclusions had been made.

One, neither Asterra or Kikiri had not seen Leorio's target, Ponzu. However, based on the information Leorio had obtained from Tonpa (Ponzu's specialty in drugs, her tendency to set traps and wait) she was able to narrow down areas where Ponzu was likely to frequent. Scouting the island had taken a day but it had been a day well-spent.

Two, Kurapika knew what Asterra's target (number 339) looked like because he had seen them before the first exam phase. The man had a tattoos on his head and a large scar running diagonally across the mouth; those facial markings had been so memorable that Kurapika had memorized his face and his number. He also remembered that her target had been with a man with brown hair and a green windbreaker. As for any special abilities, that was still unknown; her target did have a muscular physique, though. Whether he had met up with the other man was unknown as well.

After the meat was thoroughly dried and packed, the trio used the rest of the remaining hours to scout some possible locations of where Ponzu could be, but no trace of her (or any other applicant for that matter) was found.

=o=o=o=

Day 3

The following day the trio woke up early and scouted the places Ponzu was likely to be. Much to their dismay they found no trace of the female applicant in any of the spots; not even a drug-releasing contraption of any kind was found and the campsite they had stumbled across had been abandoned for more than a day.

"Whole day of walking and no sign of Ponzu!" Leorio plopped onto a log. "You said that chick would be at one of those locations, dammit!"

"I said there was a _chance_ she would be around those locations." Asterra scanned the surroundings, hand on hilt and mind on high alert for any flicker of malice. "She could be holed up somewhere I haven't been yet."

"But—!"

His words were cut off as a pale hand covered his mouth. "Quiet!" Kurapika hissed.

"Hmgfdfsdsf!" Leorio mumbled.

"There's an applicant!"

The two immediately stilled and looked towards where Kurapika was pointing to see a blot of red and yellow—unusual in this forest full of green.

The three crept closer to the clearing to get a better view of the person, advancing slowly to prevent sound from giving them away. Eventually they were close enough to see red hair tied back by a yellow ribbon—no doubt the source of the blot of color. Asterra's breath hitched.

It was the sniper woman.

"Score!" Leorio hissed. "We outnumber her!"

"She also has a rifle," Kikiri deadpanned. "But if you want to eat lead, don't let me stop you."

Asterra narrowed her eyes to focus in on the woman, but leaves obscured too much of her vision. So she climbed up a nearby tree, making sure to keep within the foliage, until she had a better view.

The woman was in the sniping position—stomach to the ground, shoulder hunched—but her head was too low, as if she were sleeping on her hands rather than actively aiming.

"Something's not right," Kikiri whispered. He crept down her body and onto the branch, and the two met eyes. The Dokujo tipped his head towards the figure and Asterra nodded in agreement.

Moments later Kikiri was slinking through the grass, taking a wide arc around the woman to avoid detection. After an agonizing minute, he finally stopped and stood up, red-brown head poking above the vegetation. His two tails flicked twice each.

Asterra whistled in acknowledgement and descended the tree. "Coast's clear," she said to them, beckoning them to follow her. At that the trio crept out of the bushes (Asterra thankful that it was not a clearing this time) and approached the woman, who made no reaction whatsoever to their advance. Leorio knelt by the body and turned it over.

Pale lips frozen in an "o"-shape; lifeless eyes stared up at them through sunglasses. Asterra looked away from the glass-like eyes almost immediately, instead focusing on what was most likely the cause of death. There was a golden needle growing out of the woman's right brow, and it pinned the sugnlasses to her face.

"A needle through the superciliary arch of the frontal bone…" a bead of sweat trailed down Leorio's face. "Shit...is that even possible?"

Asterra looked to him. "Translation?"

Leorio tapped his forehead. "Frontal bone is the bone that makes up the forehead and it's one of the thickest bones in the skull." He then traced his left eyebrow with an index finger. "Superciliary arch is the part of it that's right above the eye socket."

"So he pierced the frontal bone with a needle, and from the way she's lying, it was probably thrown from a great distance." Kurapika said. "At a velocity fast enough to penetrate the bone…"

The eyes gazed into her core, reminding her of the bodies she had seen on the airship—the ones Killua had killed. The precision present in this killing was too similar to what she had seen Killua do, although here there was very much less blood. Her heart hammered in her chest furiously as she ripped her eyes away from those of the corpse.

_Get yourself together. She's dead; she can't hurt you. Tag. Look for a tag._

So she started patting down the woman, feeling for anything that felt circular. She checked for fake linings in the jacket—she had her tag in one such lining in her sweatshirt—and found nothing. She turned to Kikiri. "Can you look for the tag in the bag?"

As the other two focused on the murder weapon, Asterra turned her attention to the sniper rifle in the woman's hands. She put her eye to the scope, only to find that the lens had been broken, rendering object useless. _How did that happen?_

She placed the scope to her eye again and settled onto the grass on her stomach. This was the way the gun had been held, in this direction. There was only forest in that direction. The gun had no signs of damage to it that would be evidence of her using it as a melee weapon to block an attack; only the lens was broken. In fact, now that she thought about it, the only wound on the sniper was the needle. That was the only killing blow.

She put the scope up to her eye again, felt the plastic rim against her brow.

Her brow.

Her eyes widened as the information danced and fused into a conclusion: that the needle had been thrown through the scope and reached the eye like that.

Malice prickled at the back of her neck and she snapped in the direction. At the end of her gaze was the golden needle, the blade thick with malice.

No. That wasn't just malice. It was malice tinged with annoyance.

Chills ran down her spine; her heart stuttered in her chest. There were only two people she knew of that killed out of annoyance with this level of precision. She did not want to fight either of them. And if there were more people like the two in the remaining pool of applicants, she needed to leave this place.

It had been foolish of her to just amble out and spend this much time around a corpse.

"We need to move." Asterra said quietly.

Leorio looked at her. "What?"

"This applicant was killed by a long-distance strike. It isn't safe for us to stay in one spot for long."

"And how do you know that?" The blonde asked.

 _There's no time to explain; just trust me on this,_ she wanted to say. _We shouldn't fight whoever did this._ But Kurapika would not be swayed by her fear, her plea…she doubted that he trusted her enough to. It was Training, all over again—she just knew things and would share her thoughts, only to be bogged down by having to explain them to others.

So she rattled off her findings in a terse manner, just as she had learned to do.

"No new weapon damage to the gun, so no melee combat. Only the lens is broken; only thing that could have done it is that golden needle. From the way she's lying, she was killed while aiming into the forest below." She handed the rifle to Kurapika and told him to put the scope to his eye. His movements were wary and slow—indicative of little to no firearms training. "Whoever killed her threw the needle _through the foliage_ with enough force to break the scope and pierce her brain. And that applicant could still be around. So we need to move."

"Fine, you've made your point. But I'm not leaving without giving this woman a funeral."

Asterra blinked at the blonde's words. "A _funeral?_ Didn't you hear what I said?"

"Yes. But this woman still deserves to be given her final respects."

"Why bother? You don't have the tools to dig a grave; this corpse will be torn apart in no time by the animals. No use prettying it up. We're better off moving before somebody finds us."

Kurapika's eyes narrowed. "…Have you no respect for the deceased?"

"My life takes priority over a dead body. Why are _you_ so fixated on preserving a corpse's dignity?"

"Just because a person has died, doesn't mean we can just treat them like they weren't human."

"Asterra, I agree with Kurapika," Leorio added. "If this sniper was really around, he'd have shot at us by now. I think it's safe enough to have at least a short funeral."

She clicked her tongue. Leorio had a point, but it did not account for the fact that there could be a sniper coming their way. From the look on these two's faces, though, they were not moving until they held their funeral service.

Fine. Let them play their morality games, let them pamper the dead to put their minds at ease. "Make it quick if you want to walk out of here," she said quietly, then turned on her heel to take care of things that would keep the living alive.

First, the gun. Asterra turned on the safety then held up the rifle and asked, "Either of you want this?" Both applicants shook their heads. "Thought so." So she gathered all the bullets she could find into one pile, taking the magazine off the rifle and turning the safety off to empty the firing chamber.

There was a set of bluffs not far from here that she could go to and thrown the gun into the sea so nobody else could use it.

"Are you done with the rifle?" Kurapika's voice rained down from above just as she was about to sling the rifle across her back. "I'd like to give it to her."

"Are you insane? Someone could use it to shoot you." Asterra didn't look up from digging through the applicant's bag for any more ammunition.

"Then I can trust you to take care of the bullets?"

She narrowed her eyes at his tone that seemed somewhat accusatory in nature. _**There's no time,**_ the reptile voice whispered; she acquiesced to his request for the rifle. The bullets went into her bag as Kurapika lay the firearm vertically next to the dead applicant.

First task done, her mind switched to the second task: scavenge. The woman's bag had not yielded a tag but it was a cornucopia of food, water, and miscellaneous items such as smoke bombs and alcohol. The supplies were soon sorted and separated into three piles. What she could divide evenly she did; what she could not was put into the pile of the applicant who she thought would benefit from it most.

After placing her share of the resources Asterra stretched and glanced over to the miniature funeral service. The body had its hands crossed, with pastel-colored flowers in its hands. What used to be a shocked expression looked peaceful due to the closed eyes. Only a small dot remained on her brow—the only evidence of a not-so-peaceful death.

Kurapika and Leorio were kneeling beside the body, heads bowed and their hands together in prayer. The former was muttering something in a language she couldn't recognize; the latter simply prayed silently, most likely for the spirit's safe journey to the realm of the dead. From what her mother had taught her, Asterra had concluded that one of religion's roles seemed to be allowing people to reconcile with death—with the fear, the mystery, and the doubt associated with it. By asserting that there was a place to go to after death, religion assured that a person's existence was not simply extinguished once he/she died. Reunion with the deceased was possible, as long as one believed.

Asterra found herself entertaining the morbid scenarios about what would happen if that belief was betrayed. Though if there was no existence after death, she guessed that there would be no entity (as in no remnants of the believer) to feel anything.

It was then that her reptile brain yanked her attention back to the present.

The back of her neck prickled.

 _Is it the one that killed this sniper?_ Her heartbeats became more forceful but she made herself take a deep breath, to not make any sudden movements that would alarm the newcomer. Instead she focused her mind on finding any sort of malice in the nearby area but found none. Either the person felt no malice towards them currently or they were adept at hiding it. She hoped it was the former.

All the same, the three of them had spent enough time here. It was time to move on before something happened.

"Have you finished?" she asked, her eyes on the forest.

The blonde rose to his feet. "Yes," he replied stiffly as Leorio also got up.

"Good. Then grab your share of the things and let's move."

Kurapika looked from the two piles on the ground to the orange-haired girl, his eyes widening. "You can't be serious. That's what you've been doing this whole time? Going through this woman's possessions?"

"The dead don't need to eat or drink." She shrugged her backpack into a better position. "A prayer for the soul's safe journey helps the dead. Restocking materials helps the living. You two helped the dead, I helped the living. Everyone's happy."

"That's…a bit harsh, isn't it?" Leorio asked.

A flicker of malice pulsed in her mind, fading into the forest air the moment she detected it. "Someone's here, sizing us up." The back of her neck began to burn; her fingers rose up to rub the spot. "Look, you've done all you can, haven't you? And I've done all I can here too. No reason for us to stay."

Leorio looked towards the pile of materials and sighed. But before he could take a step, a voice rang out with a timbre resonating with fury.

"I don't need it."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I will not steal from the dead. These are _her_ possessions." Kurapika pointed to the corpse. "They belong to _her_ , and only her."

The foreign malice pulsed again.

"And wasting things does nothing for anybody. If you don't need them, I'll take them." Asterra took a step—

—and stopped as a wooden blade descended in front of her.

"Kurapika!" Leorio yelled.

"I refuse to work with a person who would stoop so low as to loot a corpse." Kurapika's voice was low, and she felt something close to malice oozing from the blonde.

The foreign malice pulsed for a third time, and this time stayed strong.

_**Get. Out. Now.** _

Bandaged fingers clenched into a fist. If she didn't get away now, she would get shot at again. The sniper must have noticed that the three of them were in conflict each other by now, and it would be the perfect time to start taking potshots. "Fine then." She couldn't understand why Kurapika was so hard-headed and such a goody-two shoes when the current situation called for a different attitude. Maybe she had been wrong about these two, about being able to work with them.

She loathed being wrong…but there was still time to recover from the mistake.

The Resca stepped away from the blade. "I'll go my own way."

Leorio spoke up, his voice easy and calm. Halcyon tones attempted to smooth away the tension fraught between two unyielding wills. "Oh come on guys. I mean, this is a really big island and we have only…what, four days left? We're better off working together."

"Yeah," Kikiri added. "Come on, let's not do anything we'd regret in the future."

"I'd regret nothing," Asterra replied, her voice coolly. "If you two aren't willing to do what it takes to survive, you'll only slow me down. And _I_ refuse to work with anybody who does that." She met eyes with Leorio and gestured at a pile of materials with her head. "The pile next to the tree is yours. Do what you want with it." With that, she turned to run back into the forest, away from the foreign malice.

"Is that all you care about?! Survival?!" Kurapika exclaimed. "What about honor? Compassion? Dignity?"

The Resca's feet stopped and she looked back at him. "What about them?"

"You steal from the dead. You steal from the living, using loopholes and 'technicalities' to justify your actions. Where does it stop? What will you steal next? Don't you have even a _shred_ of morality?"

Her eyes became half-lidded. "Morality? That only starves you." Her eyes focused in on Kurapika's and her voice took on a tone of biting scorn. "Must be an easy life you lead if you can still afford to play nice."

"Guys—" Leorio attempted to interject, only to have his words be drowned out.

"My clan was murdered," he snarled. "Don't act like you're the only one that's suffered." His eyes hardened. "Just because you suffered doesn't mean you're excused from having morals. Suffering doesn't take away things to stand for—it gives you something to strive for." His voice crescendoed with each passion-fueled word that left his lips, his eyes started to shift from storm grey to brilliant scarlet. That familiar air of not-quite-malice pulsed around him, smothering her mind, interfering with her ability to keep tabs on that foreign presence. "Didn't your parents teach you that?! _**Didn't anyone?!**_ "

Asterra's body went rigid, as if pulled taut by invisible strings.

…

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Leorio raised his hands and took advantage of the silence to force himself between the two arguing parties. "Let's all calm d—"

"Kurapika, RUN!" the Dokujo suddenly shrieked.

His warning didn't come fast enough.

A flash of malice, whipping through the trees; the chitter of birds frantic to escape to the skies, to safety. Then a whirlwind was rushing by Leorio; in the next moment, a wraith of orange and white materializing in front of Kurapika. Bandaged fingers gripped the blonde applicant by the front of his tabard. The force of his back thudding into wood knocked the air out of Kurapika's lungs, but adrenaline was coursing through his veins, a furious strength hastening his recovery.

"Say what you want about me," Aea-green eyes flared inches away from crimson ones, the Resca's feral expression completed by bared teeth. " _But leave my parents out of this._ "

"Asterra!" Kikiri screeched. "Asterra, stop!"

"And now you're using violence to express yourself." Pale, delicate fingers wrapped around her wrist, tightening with a force that made her wince. "You're nothing more than a common thug—lack of morality and all."

The Resca snarled at the words— _I am no mindless pawn to be ordered about!_ —that sliced through a wound barely scabbed over, splitting it open and causing pus to ooze. The pus turned to spite that urged her to snap back, to wound him as well. "Yeah? Better alive and no morals than crow-food with morals." Her lips curled into a sneer. "Grow a brain, blondie. The underworld will chew you up and spit you out as a corpse if you don't change how you think. Then it'll be your eyes looking pretty on a shelf and making someone a hell of a lot of money."

Kurapika's eyes flashed at her words and the hand on his wrist began to tremble. "Why you—"

A smug smile floated onto her face at the Kurta's reaction, how much her words had wounded him. Served him right; he was due for a reality check anyway.

"Hey!" Leorio snapped. "That was uncalled for!"

"The truth's never uncalled for," she spat, her wrist writhing out of Kurapika's grip.

Then she was gone, melted into the shadows of the forest. Only her voice attested that she had not disappeared completely. "Kikiri!"

Kikiri looked towards the sound, then turned to the shaking Kurapika. The blonde had not moved from his position against the tree.

One, two, three steps. The Kurta looked up to see Kikiri standing on his hind legs not even two feet away and his rage swelled aga—

The Dokujo bowed deeply. "I'm sorry for what Asterra did."

…

…

…

When Kurapika failed to utter a word after several seconds, Kikiri looked up and his pleading words broke the silence.

"Kurapika…I know what Asterra said, and I can't begin to imagine the rage you feel right now. But please…don't hate her. Please don't pass your judgement until Asterra tells you her story." The Dokujo bowed once more.

"Story?" Leorio echoed.

"You've been with her for a long time, haven't you? Why don't you tell it instead?" Kurapika hissed.

"It's not mine to tell." The Dokujo kept his bow steady.

The blonde lunged—

—but his advance was halted by Leorio, who had grabbed the blonde by his upper arm.

Kikiri continued, his voice calm and clear. "I know I'm asking a lot…but can you please wait? I'll tell her that what she did was uncalled for in the meantime, and that she should apologize. But don't burn the bridge just yet."

"Burn bridges? Me?! Asterra started this!" A hiss of anger from the crimson-eyed applicant. "She needs to do more than just apolo—"

"Yeah. He can wait," Leorio replied.

"Leorio! I said no such thing!"

The Dokujo straightened himself and looked to the dark-haired applicant, relief apparent in the creature's eyes. "Thank you."

With that, he too disappeared into the shadows between the trees.

* * *

**So that's the chapter.**

**Uhhhh….yeah. I have this nagging feeling that Kurapika went a little OOC for my selfish purposes (please do not hesitate to say so if he did). It was my** **attempt to throw a moral debate into the 4th Exam Phase, because that seemed to be lacking in the original (except for Gon's pride issues, I guess) for a Battle Royale type exam phase.**

**Plus I wanted to break the mold by having an OC that has a major falling out with Kurapika over ideology in the beginning instead of…well, you guys have probably read enough OC fics to guess what I'm getting at.**

**Maybe I should have called this chapter, "In which Asterra is a bitch" or "In which Asterra is a Drama Queen" instead…**

**I think I hear the Kurapika fans coming for my head (O_o). So bye-bye for now *starts sprinting away from horde of readers with pitchforks***


	25. Doubts and Shadows

**Hey guys,**

**Psych, I'm not dead! Honest!**

**Enjoy the chapter :)**

* * *

As the foliage of the leaves wrapped around her body, as the silence of the forest leeched away her fury, the presence from before approached.

At first, she had been alarmed. But when the presence continued to close the gap she began to wonder if this presence was truly a sniper. If it was, then it would have stopped approaching her once it reached a certain distance. But this presence was coming closer…as if seeking out melee combat.

A rustle of bushes several yards in front of her jolted her body into a battle stance. A tall, muscular silhouette stepped out. Dark hair, small eyes, middle-aged face, headband. And held securely in a callused hand, a spear—at least six feet long. His build, his presence exuded the confidence of one that knew battle.

"Hold," he commanded, although with what authority he did so Asterra did not know.

"Why should I?" Her fingers were curled securely around the grip of the weapon. "You're not my CO."

He cocked his head. "Those words…you are a soldier."

"Your point?"

"You know how to fight, yes?"

"Once again―your point?"

"My name is Gozu of the Beanu tribe, and I challenge you to a duel."

It took a moment to register the words. When she did, she almost broke out into laughter. What idiot announced a fight? Well, if he insisted on being so kind she would use that to her advantage. "Show me your tag first."

The man's reply was unhesitant. "It was taken."

Which meant fighting this so-called Gozu of the Beanu would be a complete waste of time and energy. "Then I refuse your challenge."

"Refuse?! You cannot refuse a challenge from a Beanu!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Watch me." She started to walk.

_Vwooon!_

The spear whistled through the air and came to a stop in front of her chest.

"You run from an enemy?!" Gozu demanded. "Have you no honor?!"

Honor.

Honor, honor, honor. That word, once again. First the thick-headed Kurapika, now this self-righteous backwater bumpkin that had yet to get his head out of his ass because of what? Because of his "pride as a warrior"? Because he wouldn't reach his desired destination in the afterlife unless he followed his codes of conduct and myriad of rules that was summarized as "honor"?

Gozu's goading continued. "They teach one honor in the military, do they not?"

_Give me a fucking break._

In the next moment, steel was hissing through the air. The spear withdrew from blocking off Asterra's route, instead flashing up to intercept the sword blow with moments to spare.

"You accept my challenge then," Gozu smiled.

An annoyed hiss answered him.

=o=o=o=

As he bounded through the forest too quickly for a quadruped with stubby legs, Kikiri prayed that his apology had worked…that he had bought time for Asterra.

Well, more like bought enough time to persuade Asterra into apologizing to Kurapika. The mere thought of the task made the Dokujo shudder. That was the first time in a _long_ time that Kikiri had seen the Resca lose her temper to such a degree. The last time that had happened, it had taken her a week to calm her down. He didn't even know if there was a week left in the Hunter Exam.

But that train of thought was interrupted as the familiar sound of metal scarping metal reached his ears. Then the smell of Asterra and someone else was stimulating his olfactory nerves.

And…

He snarled and quickened his pace as his brain registered the smell of blood.

Kikiri finally came to a familiar scene of a pissed-off Asterra—her moves were uncontrolled and the air that surrounded her black—blowing off steam through violence. Not against another Trainee, but this time against an older man that was a good foot taller than her. Not that Asterra wasn't capable, but the man had a spear. And he was good with said spear, from the way the weapon moved deftly, as if it had a life of its own, to deflect all of Asterra's attacks.

A quick shove of the spear forward and the blade was thrown off, sending the Resca stumbling backwards.

The man lunged, following the step with a flurry of thrusts. The strikes came at her so quickly she almost tripped over her feet between parrying and avoiding them. She twisted away from a downwards swing, then barely managed to parry another heavy strike.

Not good, not good. This guy was too experienced, too much for Asterra.

Too much for her to beat fair and square.

Kikiri narrowed his eyes, trying to look for an opening to exploit. But the two changed positions and postures much too quickly for him to be able to target a vital. Then there was a pained grunt and a thud as Asterra's back slammed into a tree.

"Is that all, soldier?" the man stepped forward, spear in neutral position.

The orange-haired girl wiped blood away from a cut on her forehead then stood up, using the tree for support. "You wish."

"That's the spirit," the man chuckled, stance widening once more. "Give me a fight worth my life!"

A frown crossed Asterra's features momentarily…and in the same moment, Kikiri saw it. Or them, to be more precise.

Pink butterflies fluttered around the man's back, near his kidney—butterflies Kikiri had seen on corpses of animals. The telltale sign of blood, of wounds yet unhealed. And sure enough through the swarm of pink wings he saw it—a dark splotch, large and growing.

An opportunity, still growing.

=o=

As the blade whistled at her head, Asterra pushed herself off the tree-trunk. There was a tremendous _CRASH!_ —the blade had cleaved through the wood and felled the tree—as she dived towards Gozu's blind spot. The warrior's spear shaft flew backwards at her at a frightening speed.

A sharp twist of her wrist enabled her to deflect the spear shaft away, her bones groaning at the force of the blow. Gozu shifted his grip once more and advanced, leaving Asterra barely enough time to dodge the spear-point, backpedaling, desperately trying to keep her feet from tangling with each other.

Once more the butt of the spear came flying at her—damn that warrior's ability to change grip so quickly!—the round portion on the butt of the spear heading up at her jaw. She rushed to deflect the blow once more, steel meeting polished wood—

—and the sword flew out of her hand, spinning wildly in the air and stabbing the earth fifteen feet away from her.

 _Shit._ She gripped her numb wrist and lunged for the weapon.

_**Pay attention, you fool!** _

The butt of the spear whistled through the air at her temple, already too close to dodge by the time the threat had been noticed. _Need to block, need to block!_ She had no shield, no sword, which meant―

A memory flickered in her mind, a voice she never wanted to hear again slithering in her ears. _That kick should have broken one of your arms._

But it hadn't.

Knees bent into a low stance. Right arm flew up and over her temple, left hand pressing against right forearm for extra support.

The polished wood slammed into her block, the dull thud contrasting sharply with the amount of pain that flooded the point of impact. A cry escaped her lips as the force of the blow slammed her body into the earth. Clouds of dust kicked up by the movement of earth surrounded the combatants.

"You sacrificed your arm," Gozu murmured. The dust particles around them surrendered to gravity and fell back to the ground. "Admirable, but—" Gozu's words stopped and his eyes widened.

Widened at the sight of a crazed grin on his opponent's face.

"RIGHT KIDNEY!"

Gozu instinctively looked behind him for a moment at the sound of a second voice, of a voice Asterra knew well. She did not think, she did not plan—instinct propelled her forward, fingers of her right hand curled.

"RAAAAGH!"

Gozu turned right into sharp fingernails that sought out his eyes. "Argh!" The man scrambled back, clutching the thin, angry red lines that ran down his cheek and eyelids.

"Tch," Asterra hissed. But she did not fail to take advantage of the momentary blindness to land a roundhouse kick on Gozu's right. A sound like a wet rag being smacked against a hard surface reached her ears; flesh gave way under her shin. Then wetness was spreading against her skin and the man was howling, collapsing to his knees, the spear on the floor, forgotten.

For a moment she stood above the man who had been so formidable moments before. "Where's your honor now, Beanu?" she sneered.

"Asterra, not the time! Come on, let's move!" Kikiri voice urged.

The Resca descended upon the fallen warrior, a vulture upon a carcass, and kicked him once again in the side for good measure…to make sure he stayed down during her retreat. Only then did she pick up Kikiri by the scruff of his neck and bolt.

=o=o=o=

Later that afternoon

Killua grinned as he tossed the #199 tag and caught it again. That made six points; he was set to pass. Now all he had to do was hold onto both tags until the end of the week. That wouldn't be too hard. Just hunker down in a quiet place for a couple days, keep moving places. Standard hunkering-down tactics.

He pocketed the tags and started moving again to a safe place to spend the night.

=o=o=o=

Evening

The fire crackled merrily despite its small size, lighting up the cave and casting shadows on the cave walls. Asterra stared into the heart of the meager fire, chin resting on her knees. The warm Resca blanket she had packed was wrapped around her body to fend off the chilliness that twilight brought.

It was not long after she finished her dinner that Kikiri came back from his hunt with something white and circular clamped between his teeth. "Look what I found," he chirped as he placed the object in front of her.

Asterra's eyes widened as she took in the object…which had the number 197 on it. "A tag? Where did you find it?"

"I found it on a bush."

" _On_ a bush?"

"Mmhmm. It was like it fell there."

"Huh." She looked over the tag, which looked real enough, and stroked Kikiri at the same time. "Well, not the one I was looking for, but a tag's a tag. Nice job!"

The Dokujo beamed at the compliment, then his question cut through the air. "So…about today. You want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

He gave her the "you-know-what-I'm-talking-about" gaze.

"That disagreement with Kurapika? Not really—"

"Asterra, you slammed him against a tree."

"—but I doubt that'll stop you from saying your two jennies."

"It sure won't," the Dokujo chirped.

"Well then—lay into me."

And as per usual, the Dokujo did not disappoint. "I think you should apologize to Kurapika."

"For what?"

"Well, the bit about his eyes looking pretty on a shelf was harsh. Especially since, you know…"

"That his whole clan is dead because of their Scarlet Eyes? All the more reason for him to change his ways so he can survive."

"…Jeez, he _really_ pissed you off, didn't he?"

"He slowed me down. He acted high and mighty, like he was so much better than me. He dismissed my methods. He insulted Mom and Dad." The venom in her voice increased with each word, the last sentence a low snarl. "They had _nothing_ to do with my actions. They're not at fault."

Kikiri cocked his head at her last word. "Fault?" When Asterra did not react to his probing, he changed subjects. "That's not the first time Kurapika has been a 'goody two-shoes,' though. What pissed you off this time?"

"It's the first time he put my life in danger by being one."

"So…you're upset about him risking your life to follow through with his principles?"

"Wouldn't you be? What gives him the right to gamble with my life for his sake? I don't care if he gets his head blown off by being a do-gooder; I just don't want to get caught up in the mess."

"Uh-huh, definitely. I can see where you're coming from there." The Dokujo shifted posture. "Can I say some things, though?"

"You've been 'saying some things' for a while, Kikiri."

"Yes yes, haha, you're sooo funny. Anyways…I thought you, Kurapika, and Leorio were working pretty well together. Gon and Killua, too."

She raised an eyebrow.

"No, seriously. I liked what I saw. Loads better than what I've been seeing for the last couple of years."

Memories flashed in her mind, then—jeering faces blocking every escape route, limbs pinned to the cold earth, blood in her mouth. "The standards weren't very high to begin with."

"I think you should give Kurapika another chance. He doesn't seem like a bad person; if you apologize to him, I think he'll accept it and move on."

"Why do I have to apologize when what I did was right?" She felt Kikiri's claws digging into her skin after saying that and winced.

Kikiri continued, "It's not about right or wrong; it's about letting the other person know that their perspectives and values are more important than your ego."

"Kikiri…You've been with me the longest. These things never work out with me."

"Because you don't give people a _chance._ One thing you don't like, then BAM! They're done." His voice crescendoed with emotion. "Yeah, Training wasn't exactly the best environment for getting to know people, I'll give you that. But this isn't Training! This is the Hunter Exam!"

"What's so different?"

"The people! These aren't the Resca you've Trained with for the past six years. It's clean slate!" He chirped.

"They're still humans. Starve them enough and they'll forget their ties to others. All that matters is that they themselves are safe and fed." She added some more wood to the fire. "I'll use them to pass. Once I get that License, I don't need them anymore. And if they get their License, they won't need me."

"…Do you really believe that?"

"I _know_ that. I've lived it."

"Ok, let me change the question. Do you _want_ to believe that? That the world is so ugly…that people are so ugly?"

"If that's what required to survive."

…

"I don't want to believe that. I don't want to believe that the world is full of spite and hunger. It's too big a place for that." Solemn eyes looked to Asterra. "I want to see the beauty of it. I want to believe in that."

"…And I promised you, didn't I? That you could use my License to do just that." She smiled. "We've been through hell…what's one more?"

Sad eyes looked to Asterra. "…I won't always be there to walk through hell with you, Asterra."

The Resca's eyes widened.

"You know how long my lifespan is."

Ivory teeth bit down on lips. "No."

"You need human friends you can rely on too—ones that'll be around your whole life."

She clamped her hands over her ears and shook her head. "I don't want to talk about this."

Kikiri's shoulders slumped. "Asterra."

"I'm going to go get fresh air." At that point the girl shed the blanket and half-ran out the cave.

An hour later she came back, her face neutral but her eyes red-rimmed. She then brusquely curled up under her blanket and tried to get some sleep.

=o=o=o=

_Dark blue eyes look to him, their innocent light contrasting the content of the inquiry. "Are you afraid? Of killing?"_

_Sea-green eyes glare at him with the fury of roiling waves, their intensity matched by the snarled words. "Grow a brain, blondie. The underworld will chew you up and spit you out as a corpse if you don't change how you think."_

Kurapika's ivory lips pressed into a thin line as the memories ricocheted in his head and refused to fade.

Fear. Change. Mentality.

He wished not to kill if not needed. He had been _taught_ not to kill, not to do anything more drastic than needed. But was that mentality wrong? Was that desire an obstacle?

Just how much did he need to lose in order to avenge his clan? What price was required of him? He had no qualms about sacrificing himself; he was willing to do throw himself in the underworld to achieve his goals. Yet he still found himself mulling over these doubts, the parts of him that had been brought to light by the words of others.

—And then his thoughts were brutally interrupted by the complaints of his companion.

"Ugh, how am I supposed to find my target on this huge-ass island?" Leorio muttered. "Walking around this island is just a big waste of energy."

"Constantly whining would be an even bigger waste of energy," Kurapika replied dryly.

"Yeah, maybe. But I don't have six points like _someone_."

Kurapika did not reply to the jab; instead he inhaled sharply, his grey eyes wide. Leorio followed the blonde's line of sight to see—

"Nice evening for a stroll, isn't it?" A figure stepped out from the shadows of a tree, the moonlight making his pale skin and golden eyes incandescent.

There was no mistaking the applicant in front of them. "Hisoka," Kurapika replied.

"For crying out loud, why do I keep running into people I don't want to see?" Leorio muttered.

"Fancy seeing you two here…although I remember there being a third person…?" Hisoka mused.

The blonde's voice reply was flat and short. "We went separate ways."

Hisoka raised an eyebrow. "Hmm…had a little tiff, did we? Ah, young blood…so easy to rile. But I digress." He produced two cards. "I'll be direct: I need two more points—can I have your tags?"

"Are you mental?!" Leorio exploded. "Like we'd give them to you!"

"Leorio!" Kurapika warned. "You said that you needed two additional points, which implies that we are not your targets. Correct?"

"Now, now; I'm the one who's asking questions. Will you give me your tags or not?"

"That depends. We currently have four tags—mine, my target's Leorio's, and a tag worth only a single point to us. Of these, only could be the number of your target: mine or the tag worth only a single point. Leorio was #403, and he was targeted by Tonpa, #16 who was my target. Each applicant gets a different target, so #16 and #403 are out."

"Indeed," Hisoka took a step forward. "Neither of those is my target. So?"

"That leaves the other two tags. If you're willing to take the tag worth only one point to us and leave, you can have it. But I will _not_ let you have mine, nor Leorio's and Tonpa's." The two applicants cast aside their bags and drew their weapons as Kurapika continued. "If you insist on taking them by force, then we will reply with force!"

Hisoka eyed them up lazily, pale lips shaped in a smirk. Nothing in his expression betrayed much about what he was thinking. Which made it all the more shocking when his whole body started shaking with laughter. He then inquired to Kurapika, "Out of curiosity, what is your number?"

"#404." Kurapika replied.

The chuckling subsided. "Very well. You have a deal."

Kurapika walked over to his bag and took out the tag only worth one point to them. He then stuck it in a crack present in the bark of the tree, keeping the number side faced away from Hisoka. "I'll put it here."

The red-haired man must have heard the wariness in the voice. "Don't worry; I'll be standing here for a while."

Hisoka stayed true to his word, not moving from his spot until the two applicants had disappeared into the flora. "It's only been a couple of days, but they've grown so much I barely recognized them. Promising, so promising…they still have so much more to learn, though…"

He walked over to the plate number. "Ahh…why must unripe fruit be so tantalizing?" He turned over the plate to reveal #118. "Pity. This isn't it either." He put the tag away, then licked his lips.

And the calm of the night was shattered by a maelstrom of bloodlust.

=o=o=o=

When the malice came, it was sudden and merciless.

The sensation of several megatons crushing her chest and threatening to asphyxiate her shocked Asterra into consciousness. Kikiri was fluffed up next to her, and she could hear the snarl in his voice. "What. Is. That?"

Asterra failed to articulate a reply, the words screeching to a halt as an all-consuming fear constricted her throat. Somehow she maintained enough function to tear at the earthen floor and throw dirt onto the dim fire. As the flame sputtered out and the cave was doused in darkness she wrapped herself in the blanket and curled up in a ball on the floor, jittering, trying to make herself as small as possible. Muscles spasmed, adrenaline flooded her veins and made her heart thunder and struggle against her rib cage. Her breath was both torn from and caught in her windpipe.

 _What the hell is going on?_ Her words were harsh, but in the end she was still quaking. All she could do was stay curled up in a ball under the heavy blanket. Within moments the malice had rendered her a child again, hiding from the monsters that surely lurked in her unlit bedroom.

_Spirits above, Spirits above…don't let that thing find me._

She couldn't tell where it was coming from, or where the source was, or where the source was going. All she could feel was the weight, the heaviness, the menace that it posed, the desire it had to rip out her throat and revel in the blood that erupted from her arteries.

This was nothing like she had felt in Training. This was nothing she felt like before, even in her dreams.

It should have angered her, this powerlessness. She shouldn't be quaking like this; she should be acting.

But all she could do was quake like a rabbit in its burrow, and all she could think was _don't find me._

_Don't find me, don't find me, don't find me._

… _Because I'm dead if you do._

* * *

**Thanks for reading to the end!**

**Btw, happy Valentine's Day! (or Singles Awareness Day. Whichever you prefer ;) )**

**I personally won't be celebrating...unless you consider studying a method of celebrating it. Lol. But please let me give you all my heartfelt thanks for your patience and for reading and supporting Lattices!**

**See you in the next chapter,**

**Rhyss**


	26. A Little Swim

**It's really short, I know, but it's something, right?**

* * *

Day 4, Early Afternoon

"Shit," Asterra hissed as she parted the bushes to reveal yet another unsprung trap. "You'd think something would be caught by now…"

She felt a familiar weight climbing up her back and shoulders. "Asterra, the traps in the west are empty too."

A low sound, a mixture of a snarl and a groan, crept out of pursed lips. First a bad night's sleep, then oversleeping until noon, and now traps that had failed to catch anything else except Leorio two days ago and an exotic bird of some sort this morning (which served as a rather tasty meal). "I need to think of something else to try."

"It's only been two days since you set up the traps."

"This phase is halfway done and the only I tag I've got was the one you found." She attempted to rub the drowsiness out of her eyes for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

"Congratulations, you have a tag to bargain with now. You're welcome, Sunshine." He ignored the glare she shot back at him with practiced ease. Asterra was about to follow up with some choice words when his spine suddenly stiffened. Pointed, tufted ears and small nose twitched. "Someone's near."

Asterra raised her head, reaching out with her mind. No malice streamed around Resca and Dokujo, so the person was not hunting them actively. "How many?"

Kikiri stared off into the distance, his eyes narrowed, until he finally replied, "One."

Asterra started climbing a nearby tree to see if she could get a better view. "Which direction?"

Kikiri pointed with a stubby leg. "That way."

She started moving through the trees in that direction, the fact that she had to look for sturdy branches while making the smallest amount of sound possible making it more difficult to navigate. But then Kikiri told her to stop and soon enough she saw a glimpse of skin through the trees nearing the tree she had climbed. The man that carried a pile of branches was muscular and a gruesome scar cut diagonally across his mouth. At first glance it looked like he was wearing a black beanie. A second glance revealed that on top of his head was dark hair, while the sides of his head were adorned with black geometric tattoos. It was a match to the description Kurapika had given her.

Jackpot. It was her target—and he was alone. No sign of the companion who wore a windbreaker.

A quiet word and Kikiri scampered down her back to take position in the bushes nearby. The creature barely made any sound.

Twenty feet, fifteen feet.

The Resca steadied her breaths even as her heart accelerated in anticipation. She shoved the emotion deep into her, kept the malice from leaking out. Her body stilled as she observed the man who continued to walk towards her. No malice bled from his body, which meant he was still unaware of the threat that loomed above him in the trees.

Ten feet, nine feet, eight feet, seven feet.

The applicant bent down to pick up another branch. Asterra took the chance to sweep the area once more, throwing a wide net of awareness over her surroundings to see if it snagged even the slightest bit of malice. But she only felt one presence, and that was Kikiri's malice—sharp and focused as a dagger, the malice of a natural-born hunter.

Three feet, two feet, one.

And then instinct was roaring in her ears, her body running into overdrive with the thrill of promised battle.

Her full body weight slammed into the man's shoulder blades, feet first. Firewood flew and spilled across the forest floor as he crumpled to the floor. A surprised yelp, but before he could turn around she grabbed his hair and slammed his face into the ground with a hiss. The man slumped for a moment in shock but then whirled on her with a roar. She slammed his face into the ground again.

The strike made him falter for a longer moment, made her think the fight was over. But then the body beneath her was violently contorting, bucking to get the foreign weight off his back. An elbow flew at her face, which she easily blocked with her forearm. Pain—an amount hard to tolerate, even for her—exploded at the site of contact.

Spirits, the man was slow but he hit hard.

His other hand flew at her and she dodged, only to have her balance became haphazard and force her to jump off, to return to terra firma. Her opponent recovered quickly, jumping to his feet as she faced forward to take in the surrounds for the next stage of the fight, to deduce what type of threat she was facing in what little time she was given.

His fists protected his face securely; his fighting stance was narrower than hers. A narrow stance minimized the amount of surface area exposed to an opponent standing in front. However, it also limited the ability to change direction. His gaze was intense, his malice focused wholly on her as if he did not expect another enemy to attack him from any other direction. Conclusion: She was facing someone that was trained to fight one-on-one in a ring.

That meant Kikiri's attack would be wholly unexpected. She considered signaling Kikiri for an attack at that moment but a memory flashed in her mind—the one of Hisoka nearly crushing the Dokujo in his hands. _No. He needs to be weakened more_.

His counterattack came at her as a cross, a huge, scarred fist flying at her face. She used the heel of her left hand to redirect the first blow, turning her torso and burying her face into her left shoulder at the same time for protection. She then followed with a right cross to the liver. She hissed as her fist connected; what met her knuckles was toughened muscle and sinew, and the impact sent shockwaves running up her arm. It felt like she was punching a tire.

All the more reason to go for the face.

The open palm used to redirect the blow now closed around the man's wrist like a vice. Then her right transitioned from a body blow to a facial one. One, two, three blows to the man's face. Blood burst from his nose. The man tried to whirl on her but Asterra jerked on his arm to keep the man's body between his free fist and her face.

_**More, more, more. Hurt him, make him bleed. Do not give him time to think, to act.** _

The man broke free of her grip and lashed out; the blow clipped Asterra's shoulder as she sidestepped. Her shoulder jerked backwards at the force. Before he could follow up the blow, though, she lashed out with her foot and landed a strike to the groin.

The man sagged to his knees, and she struck him in the face once more. Saw his eyes glaze over slightly.

 _Now_. She inhaled sharply, breaking the rhythm of her ragged breaths, and whistled.

Kikiri shot from the bushes nearby. Asterra continued to punch the man as the Dokujo ensnared him, only stopping when Kikiri had finished giving him a dose of his paralytic poison. The man struggled, but in his half-dazed state the struggle was not strong; the paralysis beginning to seep into his muscles did him no service either.

"I got him," Kikiri said. "Rest."

The Resca nodded, letting go of the man's wrist and taking a couple of steps back. Labored breaths entered and exited her on their own accord; her chest heaved. It took considerable mental effort to fight against her body's instinctive response, to take more measured breaths that would speed up recovery.

"How's your hand? You were wincing when you hit the guy."

Asterra opened and closed her right hand experimentally, then shrugged.

Kikiri chuckled. "I'll ask you after the adrenaline wears off."

She tried to inhale enough air to make a retort—

A flash of malice, pinprick-small, registered at her peripheries.

Another one?! Her legs bent slightly to jump back, only to realize that the malice was not directed at her. It was just there, hovering, sharpening—

And then it lashed out.

Her body moved and she hollered a wordless cry of warning. But she knew Kikiri, knew his reaction speed, how long it took to unwind from a constriction-hold. He would not make it.

The Dokujo turned, eyes wide and nostrils flaring as he finally scented the smell of the enemy on the wind. Heard the blades flying through the bushes at him.

The dull thud as metal biting into flesh, then blood spattered onto the trunk of a nearby tree.

"Asterra!"

"Hide!" she hissed. The Resca burst forward with a snarl to follow the thread of malice back to its owner, pain drowned out by the urgency of the situation. The drawn sword descended on a bush in a silver arc. The strike elicited a rustle as a shadow dived out of the way. Adrenaline sharpened her senses, made her feet move that much faster to chase the shadow and rout it out, into the sunlight.

Three pinpricks of light streamed at her through the foliage and she ducked, heard the metal thud into bark. Her eyes snapped up and scanned the brush for a flash of skin, of cloth that would give away her assailant. But what warned her instead was a snapping of twigs and a yowl from Kikiri.

A whirl made her face the assailant and she took in the windbreaker, the touseled hair, the cocky look in his eyes. The blade in his hand gleamed in what light the foliage let through and sped at her in a crescent shape. She raised her own blade and steel met steel, the sound sending birds chittering through the air, then deflected another strike. There was a blur in her peripheral vision, then the opponent's roundhouse kick slammed into her unprotected side.

Her feet stumbled backwards to put some distance between her and the new enemy. But then she heard the hiss of weapons flying and Kikiri screaming "Duck!"

She did so, stumbling over a root, almost losing balance in the process. However, the enemy did not take advantage of the loss in balance; instead he stood squarely in front of the prostrate man. "Ezo with the life?" the man asked in thickly accented Basic, his dark eyes careful and focused on the Resca. "Mouse wonder where Ezo is. Wood-grabbing not long take."

The man grunted, struggling to a standing position. The venom still had not kicked in. Granted, from the size of the man she had estimated it would take a couple minutes…if Kikiri had enough to deliver enough of it. The thought made her lips thin into a grim line.

There was also the matter of her wounds. She pulled the small throwing daggers out of her deltoid and bicep and dropped them onto the ground. The wound did not feel that deep, but now crimson was steadily parading across the white fabric of her hoodie, staining her left sleeve. She could still grip her sword which meant her tendons and ligaments were fine, but it hurt to move her arm.

One quick and able-bodied fighter, one somewhat-able-bodied fighter, and wounds that she did not know the severity of.

_**Retreat.** _

The voice of her reptile brain pulsed inside her head and she decided to obey. It had never let her down before, after all. It had led her through the fires of Training and allowed her to survive.

She whistled. Leaves rustled behind her and Kikiri fell out of the foliage, claws digging into the thick material on her shoulders. She reached into her pocket with her left to pull out a round object, off-beige in color. She mentally thanked the sniper woman she had commandeered the flashbang from then threw the object at the ground in front of Mouse. There was a loud bang and a flash of light, bright enough to blind those that had not guarded her eyes like her. Thick, acrid smoke filled the clearing.

As soon as she heard coughing and swearing she sheathed the sword and took off.

She did not stop as her chest smoldered, as her legs burned. Her mind raced through the mental map of the island, trying to identify where she was and the best route to get back to her makeshift home base. _**Do not return directly. Run through streams to cover your tracks,**_ the reptile brain commanded. Asterra found herself trying to put a stream into her route as well.

But in all her thinking she failed to completely take in her surroundings. One moment she was running; the next her footing failed her. A yelp escaped her lips as she tumbled down, down, down a small hill covered with leaves and grass. Asterra's arms flashed up to protect her face and head, one arm protesting more than the other at the abuse. Lone roots dug into her back and stomach while branches nipped at her skin and yanked on her hair.

But suddenly the ground was gone and Asterra opened her eyes a crack to see—

Blue.

The river.

No no no no—

"KIKIRI!" she screamed, her fingers floundering for the feel of familiar fur. To protect, to shelter that life encased in a body more fragile than hers. But only air whistled through her fingers, shrieked in her ears with an unearthly howl.

And then her back slammed into something hard, the force of impact stunning her. Another tumble later another force was hammering into her chest, shoving the oxygen out of her lungs. For a hairsbreadth of a moment she floated, numb. But then her lungs were begging for oxygen, forcing her hands to claw at the water all around her. The water piling onto her, the river's currents claiming her.

Claiming her breaths, her body, and finally her consciousness.

=o=o=o=

Gon sat curled up in the hollowed out remains of a dead tree that by some miracle remained upright, his cheek swollen and his mind fantasizing of ways to land a blow on Hisoka's face.

His plan to steal Hisoka's tag had been solid; it had even worked. He had spent all that time practicing how to use his fishing rod to capture a moving target, finally realizing that the best time to steal Hisoka's tag would be when Hisoka was focused on fighting someone else. Then he had hunted down Hisoka and tracked him for a day or two without getting caught. It had all culminated with the perfect chance—Hisoka attacking another applicant and becoming so oblivious to his surroundings that Gon was able to use his fishing rod to take Hisoka's tag.

He remembered the exhilaration he felt as he bolted away from Hisoka, the #44 tag in hand. But then his own focus had backfired; the dark-skinned applicant who had been tailing Gon all this time (and who Gon had failed to notice) had paralyzed him with poison and taken both tags.

What made it worse was that Hisoka had killed the man who took his tags and given his own #44 tag back to him. The dark-skinned applicant had been Hisoka's target; with his other three tags Hisoka now had a total of six points. No, he'd just come back to praise Gon.

" _You owe me now. Feel free to pay me back when you want."_

Gon's blood had riled at words, to the extent it had allowed him to fight the poison coursing his body and stand. To give back that tag Hisoka had given him so freely…only to be struck so hard in the face it had sent him flying and the stars had not stopped for minutes.

" _You are alive because I allow you to live. Because I want you to live, to grow…and become someone truly worth killing. So that tag is yours, Gon. Until you can land a blow to my face, just like that."_

He did not know how long he sat there, fantasizing and wallowing in bitterness, when a suddenly a different emotion seeped into his thoughts…left him feeling very, very empty and powerless.

"KIKIRI!"

The scream shattered the silence, sliced through the words replayed in his head.

He could taste the desperation, the fear in the voice he knew well by now. Knew that the person who owned that voice did not sound like that usually.

_She needs help._

He stood up from his cocoon, the emptied trunk of a tree, that trapped every emotion he emitted and made it accumulate, concentrate, suffocate him.

_I can help her._

Tentative steps out of the tree, onto soil.

_I'm not worthless. I'm not useless. I'm not here just because he lets me live. I'm here to help others._

Gon ran towards the sound of the scream.

=o=o=o=

She vaguely remembered being tossed around, then coming to a halt.

But then something…splashing? Coming towards her. Nearing, nearing nearing. And then her chest was hurting, she could not breathe…

An arm wrapped around her stomach and dragged her up, up, up to places her arm hurt too much to take her. And then the air was cool on her face, washing over her nose.

The arm kept dragging her along, cutting through the water in a practiced—but labored—manner. Then two arms wrapped beneath her armpits and around her shoulder. Her body ceased to be weightless as someone dragged her across stones that aggravated bruised and unbruised tissue alike.

Spirits, nothing made sense. Where was she, what was she? When was this?

A voice was saying something but it sounded far away, as if something clogged her ears. She coughed and water came out, leaving the distinct taste of river water in her mouth.

"Asterra!" Through blurred vision she made out a red-brown shape looking down at her. "Gon, she's awake."

"Kikiri?" _Gon?_ She blinked and saw a boy clad in green that shook his wet hair out like a wet dog.

"Are you okay?" he asked earnestly, kneeling next to her. There was evident concern in his eyes. "You're covered in blood."

She looked down at herself and dumbfoundedly took in the formerly white left half of her hoodie. It had been stained crimson from shoulder to wrist, with blotches of red still advancing towards her chest. With her returning awareness came the pain—a dull, thumping thing.

"That looks really bad…shouldn't you—" he suddenly stopped and his head tilted to the side in a questioning way. "Asterra…what's that on your hand?"

It was then she realized that the bloodied bandages had been ripped, exposing some of the skin underneath. Skin paler than her face and legs, heavily scarred, and—

Her other hand bolted to pull the hoodie sleeve down on the exposed skin. Her heart bucked, beat faster, a war drum in her ears. "It's nothing."

Gon frowned. "But—"

 _ **Do not reveal, do not reveal, or they will come. Come and take, come and kill.**_ Her reptile brain hammered the words out as a frenetic staccato in her mind. The air blackened around the applicants and an eerie silence settled in the riverbank. Gon's shoulders hunched at the sudden cease of forest sounds and his eyes took in his surroundings, making him look like a small mammal making itself smaller at the sign of danger.

A snarl. " _I said it's nothing_." Sea-green eyes glinting with a darkness, of promised viciousness if he said anymore and crossed a line that had been drawn between them. Gon had not seen enough of Asterra's hand to know what it was. But he knew the look that she bore now from multiple excursions through the woods near his home. He instinctively stilled, slowing his breathing, as if even that simple action was enough to provoke a violent reaction.

In this moment, this was not a human in front of him. Here, on this bank, he faced a wild animal. An injured one, perhaps, but a ferocious one nonetheless.

"Asterra, Asterra. Look at me. It's okay." Kikiri's voice was calm—soothing—as he stood between her and Gon on his two hind legs. "He didn't see anything. He can't say anything. It's okay." The Dokujo repeated the same sentences a couple of times, each iteration making the tenseness in the air lessen. Gon looked on with curious eyes.

At last the humanity returned to her eyes and she stood up slowly. "I'm going to go take care of my wounds."

"Are you…okay by yourself?"

"I'll be fine," she snapped and disappeared into the forest.

Once reaching a satisfactory distance she sat down on a log and unzipped her water-heavy hoodie, letting it slowly slide down her arm. The bandages underneath were ripped and stained with blood, with redness staining to the portions beneath her black tanktop. Cold fingers struggled at the clasp on the palm of her left hand that pinned the bandages down. After several attempts (separated by furiously rubbing her right hand against her thighs for warmth) the strips of cloth fell away bit by bit, making a pile to the side of her and looking like some massive white snake had shed its skin.

The gash was deep, but not too deep. She did not see any white—the cut had not reached fat or bone. But there was so much red, red, red; the wound was like a spring of blood. Her swim in the river had not allowed her body to even start congealing and start the healing process. Crimson liquid slicked over her arm, dripped into the soil with a steady _plit, plit, plit_ …

And contrasted so sharply with the blue-green of the crystals embedded in her skin, which stuck out like islands among the crimson deluge.

* * *

**Anyone who predicted this turn of events gets a cookie!**

**But in all serious, thanks for reading to the end!**

**-Rhyss**


	27. Starting the Hunt

The crystals were not congenital.

They had been nodules first – hard, irregular bumps in her skin that grew over the course of a couple of months to a size too large to be chickenpox. They covered the top side of her feet, the back of her hands, her right forearm, her entire left arm, her left shoulder, and some of her left shoulder blade. Her parents, the doctors had been concerned – such growths were unnatural, unprecedented. She vaguely remembered the doctors tossing around words such as "malignant tumors" and "cancerous bone growths" and her parents paling at the mention of them. But when the biopsy had revealed that the growths were crystals rather than neoplastic tissue, the doctors had been left scratching their heads and floundering for an answer. Why was crystal hard enough to chip the edge of their surgical tools growing out of a seven-year-old child?

Further testing had not revealed anything else out of the ordinary. Her parents had settled for the diagnosis of "not cancer" and decided against having surgery to take the nodules out. The nodes covered too much surface area, and the surgery would have been too extensive, too strenuous not only on Asterra but also their finances. University insurance, while above average, did not cover everything.

A month passed in peace. Asterra grew accustomed to bandaging her arms and hands, to wearing long sleeves despite the hot weather. The Resca herself had nothing to hide, but it prevented the locals from ostracizing her.

Then all hell broke loose.

The current sight of her bloodied arm mirrored the day she had first seen them–that morning of her eighth birthday when she had awoken screaming. Her parents had burst into the room to find her bed and sheets slick with blood and her right forearm glistening with it. The hospital nurse had cleaned the wounds to reveal that the nodules were no more; now crystals protruded a quarter of an inch out of her skin.

The wounds had healed with time and no small amount of antiseptic and stitches. But the sudden growths had taken their toll: scar tissue surrounded each budding of crystal and ran between individual buds like a web—signs of where the skin had split and had to be stitched together.

Then it had happened again.

Just when the skin of her forearm had healed over, the nodules on her back ruptured during the night. Once again, the screaming, the midnight rush to the hospital, the blood, the pain. Being jabbed with so many needles, taking so many pills of so many colors and sizes, for "making the owchies go away" and "killing the bad bugs inside" and who knew what else. But once again she pulled through—the doctors took out stiches from her healed skin, looked at her growing web of scars with a sad light in their eyes.

From the second episode onwards, the rupturing had been less dramatic. The nodules of a small area would rupture, and she would wake up with that familiar wet feeling and smell of metal. As time went on she could bear the pain, and she did not wake up screaming. In fact, sometimes she would wake up in the morning with a bloodied nightgown, and half an hour later she would be in the car on the way to the hospital, munching on a granola bar. Eventually everyone at the hospital knew her and her parents on a first-name basis.

Despite its horrifying beginning, the ordeal had become routine. The rupturing of the nodules had been like acne, in a twisted sort of way. It came in the night, made a mess of things, then eventually healed over. The one exception was that the nodules had stopped rupturing shortly after her ninth birthday; as for the acne, she still got the occasional flare-up to this day despite the almost ritualistic face-washing.

And now here she was, feeling déjà vu and ferreting around in her bag, praying that her first aid supplies had not been destroyed by water.

"Asterra?" a voice called out tentatively. Gon's. "Are you doing ok?"

The Resca jumped slightly. "I told you to—"

"I know, but you need water to wash out where you're bleeding, don't you?" The sound of metal clinking on stone. "Here's some. If you throw me a water bottle I can get more water from the river—it's really clean."

She turned back towards the sound of the voice, where she could see his spiky black hair poking over the bushes slightly. She turned toward her own empty canteen, replied "ok", and threw the canteen over the bushes. The boy caught the container, went back to the river and refilled the water. He then came back and then both canteens were poking through the bushes. "I'll put them here. And don't worry about anybody bothering you."

Asterra grabbed the canteens of water once she knew he had turned away and used the water to soak the old bandages and wash away the blood, making sure to avoid the stab wounds. Then she opened her unharmed first aid kit and took out antiseptic and clean cloths. She grit her teeth as the antiseptic stung exposed flesh, then opened a small wooden ointment container and crinkled her nose at the foul smell. While the antiseptic was something found in pharmacies all around the world, this paste was different—it was a traditional Resca ointment made from herbs meant to facilitate blood clotting and wound healing. And while it was an effective medication that did not sting when applied to a wound, it _reeked._ Once the ointment was applied, she re-wrapped exposed skin with bandages once more. She then walked back to the river shore, jacket and water containers in hand.

When she finally appeared again, Gon was fishing. He did not ask about the crystals; instead, he crinkled his nose and asked, "What's that smell?"

"Ointment," she replied simply.

"Oh. Wow. Does it make you feel better?" the Whale Island native asked.

"Yeah," she nodded and returned his flask to him. "Thanks for the water."

"Anytime!" he beamed. So innocent…maybe too innocent. Too well-meaning. Not enough fear or hesitation clouded his brown eyes. One part of her breathed in relief at this outcome, while another part of her remained incredulous that he was acting normally towards her despite having malice unleashed upon him half an hour ago. In similar situations back in Training, it unnerved other Trainees…made them shrink away from her for the rest of the day.

"Are you hungry?" he asked as he flicked his wrist back. A silver fish writhed around in the air for breath as Gon removed it from the hook.

Her stomach growled in reply before she could say anything, making blood rush to her face. The Whale Island native (thankfully) just smiled in response.

=o=

Over a meal of roasted fish the two caught up on each other's past days. Asterra learned that Gon had already collected the tags he required. All the more impressive, considering the fact that his target had been none other than Hisoka.

"How did you even get the tag?"

His response served to solidify a hunch of hers—that behind the innocent face and simple honesty was a cunning and creativity that allowed him to make unexpected, unforeseen decisions.

"And then I heard you yelling for Kikiri and came to help."

She frowned. "Why?" When the boy looked at her quizzically, she continued. "Why help me? I'm your competitor, and you have no idea if there's a cap to the number of applicants that are chosen as Hunters. If you hadn't helped me I would have been disoriented for a couple of days, if not dead. And there'd be one less applicant to compete against."

His brows furrowed at that. "I…guess. But that's not right."

"By your morals, maybe. But it's the smart thing to do."

"Is it? Aunt Mito always said, 'What goes around, comes around.' Helping people means you'll be helped in the future by someone else."

"By the person you helped?"

"No, by anyone. Including the person you helped."

She raised an eyebrow. "That's…idealistic."

He shrugged. "It's also why I'm going to help you get the tags."

"So…you came looking for me because I sounded like I was in trouble. You're willing to help me. And you're not expecting anything in return?"

"Yeah."

She gaped for a moment, then snapped her mouth shut. _If he's going to offer himself on a platter, might as well take advantage of it._ Gon was an able tracker and a combatant with a different style of fighting than her. He would be a useful ally; one that was not likely to turn on her, from what she had observed about him so far.

"Kikiri?" She nudged the stoat-like creature currently licking the bones of the fish clean.

"I don't mind as long as you don't."

She nodded, then turned to Gon. "Look forward to working with you."

=o=o=o=

**Later that afternoon**

"So this is where you fought the two applicants?" Gon asked as kneeled on the ground in front of scuffled earth – remains of the fight from hours before.

"Yeah – first a beefy one called Ezo and then a lanky one called Mouse," Asterra replied, her mental net cast over the vicinity and actively searching for any nearby malice. Kikiri kept sniffing the air periodically as well.

"And what about this?" The Whale Island native pointed to a tree trunk. Red-brown streaks spread across it like splattered paint.

"I got stabbed." She pointed to her left arm. "The one that called himself Mouse used knives. Threw them accurately too."

She felt Kikiri shrink around her shoulders, felt him press his furry body against her neck, and she scratched him behind his ear. "Not your fault. No way you could have predicted that would happen."

"But you still got hurt. And your arm…it'll be hard to fight with it."

"It'll heal. Be good as new by next week."

"I don't care how fast you heal—that arm won't get better in a couple hours. You need it to fight."

Asterra tapped the sheath of the sword at her hip. "I'm right-handed. Besides, I don't plan on fighting him with my bare hands again."

"Hey, Asterra," Gon's voice called from the bushes to her left.

"Yeah?"

"When you said Mouse fought with knives, did you mean these knives?"

The Resca walked into the bushes to see Gon reaching for the hilt of a knife embedded in the tree trunk. After pulling one out and she studied the knives. The shape of them brought the fight from earlier back to the conscious part of her mind. It echoed with the memory of metal biting into wood just inches above her head and the sensation of pulling the blades out of her bicep.

She nodded. "This was it."

The boy observed the knife and sniffed it. His nose crinkled. "It smells…spicy."

"Spicy?"

"Yeah. Nothing like I've smelled before."

She sniffed the hilt of the blade. The scent of herbs and spices reached her nose, although the smell was so faint that she would have not noticed it if Gon had not pointed it out.

"Smells like something used to cook or smoke rather than something to maintain weapons with. Nothing I've smelled before though." She played with the knife absentmindedly, flipping it up into the air and catching it by the blade. "Mouse did have a thick accent. Didn't sound like a native Basic speaker."

Gon, however, had focused on a different part of her remark. "Smoke? Why would you smoke a plant?"

Kikiri choked back a laugh.

Asterra briefly wondered if Gon was aware of the existence of recreational drugs, then opted for an alternative answer. "You know how people smoke cigarettes? Like that."

Thankfully, he knew about cigarettes. "Cigarettes are plants?"

"Cigarettes are made by rolling up tobacco in paper. The tobacco part of it is made by drying the tobacco plant's leaves. But tobacco doesn't grow everywhere, so different cultures have different plants they make into their version of cigarettes."

"So, is this smell is unique to this Mouse person?"

She shrugged be. "I don't know. Could be."

Gon extended his hand towards her; she stopped playing with the knife and gave it to him hilt-first. The boy sniffed at the hilt once more, then walked back to the clearing. After a few moments of smelling the air and walking the clearing, he knelt by the ground and intently studied something in it.

"Find something?" Asterra asked.

"Footprints."

She squinted at the ground and sure enough, there were two sets of faint footprints in the ground. One of the sets had one foot dragging on the ground, indicating an injured person. She knelt down and started looking around the surrounding area. Tracking revolved around finding and following "signs," or marks that organisms left behind while moving through an environment. Examples could be treads in the mud, or even subtle details such as damaged vegetation. In the case of humans there were usually signs within two or three feet of each other. Not many humans had a step length greater than that.

Just as she found a promising sign—branches snapped back away from her position—Gon tapped her on the shoulder. "This way." With that, Gon started walking without even looking at the ground.

"Wha—hey! Wait! What are you doing? You'll ruin the signs!"

Gon looked back at her quizzically. "Signs?"

"Yeah, like signs of where they might've gone. Footsteps, broken branches?"

"Why do you need signs when the smell is so strong?"

She gaped at his serious expression, then mentally kicked herself. _Of course, how could I forget—this boy is a bloodhound made human. He tracked Leorio through the forest with just his sense of smell._ "You know what, never mind. Let's go."

An hour or so later, they were both laying on their stomachs in the bushes, looking over a campsite where Mouse and Ezo currently lay.

 _By the Spirits._ She had to hand it to the boy – he was _good._ Tracking had never been one of Asterra's strongest skills; as observant as she was, she always seemed to miss something. It would have taken her more than a day to get this point at the very least.

The two crawled backwards to a safe distance, taking care not to make too much noise, and proceeded to make plans in hushed voices.

* * *

**Happy New Year guys! May you all have a prosperous 2018.**

**To the anon who commented on 10/23/2017: A dokujo is a creature I created that is not in the original HxH universe. It's a ermine-like creature with abilities such as elongating its body, constricting prey, and teeth laced with endogenously-produced paralytic poison.**

**Thanks for reading and sticking with this story.**

**Lots of love,**

**Rhyss**


	28. Lex Talionis

**Hi guys, here's another chapter of Lattices. Thanks for being patient with me 😊.**

* * *

It had been a simple plan—divide and conquer. Keep one applicant busy so he could not come to the other's rescue.

But plans, it seemed, were made to go awry. Because what should have been a tidy conclusion to this hunt had somehow ended with her on a beach with a bruised neck and bleeding arm, weighing her options.

Run, or make a deal?

=o=o=o=

Half an hour earlier

Mouse and Ezo had their period of rest interrupted by a knife thudding into the tree trunk above Ezo's head. The two men started at the sudden attack, their eyes flashing towards the direction of the throw to see—

—an orange-haired girl smirking at them, another knife in hand.

"How—" Mouse started. Ezo, on the other hand, had already travelled half the distance between their campsite and the girl, crashing through the underbrush with all the grace of an enraged bear. "Ezo, wait!" Lurching to his feet while grabbing the knife—his knife—in the wood, Mouse rose to give chase.

The air whistled and something red came flying at him. There was a real sound of wood above his head crunching, giving way to force. Mouse looked back to see a young boy step out of the bushes, dressed in green and sporting the bushiest black hair he'd seen. The boy's wrist snapped back and the large red lure sailed through the air with a practiced precision.

"My friend still needs tags." The boy extended a small, callused palm out towards him. "Can I have two tags? I don't want to fight you, but I will if I have to."

Mouse chortled. "Boy blunt. Funny. But no, my tags cannot have." The man positioned himself so he was in front of his bag and switched the grip on his knife. "Will take yours."

=o=

Ezo continued to hurtle through the forest, breaking logs and branches with wild abandon on his stampede. Too focused on the figure in white in front of him to see the rope trap at his feet, then too surprised to catch himself from falling flat on his face.

"Don't move." The words were accompanied by the cool sensation of metal, sliver-thin against his neck.

The man went still, and his eyes fixed on to the teenaged girl above him that regarded him with empty, jagged eyes who simply said, "Your tag."

"Sure thing. I like my head where it is." He bared his palms slowly. "You gonna let me grab them?"

Wary eyes flitted back and forth, then finally the girl nodded. So he slowly reached towards the chest pocket where he kept the tag—

—then grabbed the blade with a gloved hand and _wrenched_.

For a moment Asterra fought the force. But then the weapon began to torque in her hand, threatened to sprain her wrist.

Maintain hold on the weapon or a functioning wrist? The choice was an easy one to make. She quickly relinquished her hold on one of the advantages she had thought she had over him. But as her mind fumbled for a recovery from this new development, her body failed to respond quickly enough to the leg sailing toward her. And then it was Asterra that was floundering as her legs were swept from underneath her. Her back slammed into the ground and she felt a heavy weight pin her to the ground.

Her arms flashed up to protect her head. _Shit shit SHIT_ —

The wrecking ball crashing into her block and making her arms slam against her face made the mental cascade of profanities screech to a halt. Her world swam, then black wool descended upon her consciousness for a moment. The feeling of fingers clamping around the soft flesh of her throat brought her consciousness right back, albeit her hold on it was now becoming tenuous at best.

Almost infuriating was her first response to the situation—a petulant voice in her head hissing _This was_ not _how it was supposed to go!_ The visceral response was not far behind—the near-panic of having her access to air slowly taken away from her, the response that was not unfamiliar to her.

Unlike Training, though, there was nobody to stop the fight, to give her a second chance at life. Nobody to shout words that would alleviate the pressure clamped around her throat, the heavy weight that bore down on her abdomen.

_**Give no mercy, expect no mercy.** _

The words echoed in her head, an urgent whisper, a command. Words that had been repeated to her over and over, words that had been drilled into her brain by repetition and experience. A creed, a way of fighting, a way of surviving.

 _ **Fight**_ **.** The voice echoed in her head, its tenor vibrating and pulsing with her heartbeat that struggled under the man's weight on her abdomen. Her fingernails dug into the man's hands, little half-circle wells bubbling with blood, as she tried to lift the hands off her throat.

 _ **So you endured the past six years only to die here?**_ Her vision blurred and blackened at its edges. _**You lived like a dog and here you die like one. Fitting.**_

 _Shut up_. Her fingers uncurled and started grasping the ground for something, anything.

_**Then prove your worth. Don't make me regret choosing you.** _

Her fingers clenched around a fistful of sand and whipped it in his face. There was a startled gasp as the man inhaled the sand, then started coughing and choking. The fingers around her throat curled back a fraction of an inch, and a sliver of air entered her lungs. The whistles failed her; she opted for the simplest signal.

"KIKIRI!" she screamed.

There was a chilling yowl, a banshee-like shriek, and a red-brown head clamped down on the man's face. Scrabbling, scratching, snarling a hairsbreadth away from her nose, obscuring the previous sneering expression that had dominated her field of vision.

The pressure on her throat further lightened and Asterra _moved_.

She tore at the grip while her hips bucked and throw off the man's balance. As the man's hands debated on maintaining balance or getting the fury of fur and fangs off his face, she scrabbled away from under him. An involuntary gasp shook her body as oxygen rushed into her deprived lungs, cold and sweet. Black fuzziness receded from her field of vision. But then she was in a kneeling stance and she kicked off. By now the man was screaming, clawing at his eyes, at a Dokujo that was no longer there. His head shot up at the sound of her footsteps and he seemed to see her through his half-closed eyes. But he couldn't react fast enough to avoid kick that cracked against the side of his face.

Momentum sent him falling back and Asterra followed him to the ground. Within seconds of the Dokujo's appearance the two's positions had become reversed in a matter of seconds. Now she straddled him and was returned the favor with a cracking blow into his face with her fist.

Thud, thud, thud!

At first Ezo bucked underneath her and his fists flew at her with wild abandon, some of the strikes hitting home. But she still had the upper hand. Adrenaline thrilled through her veins and made her attack with her left, pain from the fresh bicep wound dissipating with each strike. Blood spurted from the wound on her left arm but it went unnoticed, the pain secondary to the bloody mist curtained over her eyes and a frenzy that impaired all decision-making skills and sensations of pain. All that mattered to her was that she inflicted as much damage as possible to the face in front of her.

Thud, thud, thud!

Bones shifted and cracked beneath her fist; the man's body spasmed beneath her and began to claw frantically. Crimson spurted from his nose and splattered onto her face, her clothes.

Thud, thud, thud!

"Asterra! Asterra, that's enough!"

_No it's not it's not it's not—_

Her chest tightened, her arms refused to move. She looked down to see red-brown across her chest, multiple rings preventing her from striking the man any more.

"STOP!" Kikiri's eyes were wide. "He's done!"

The voice punched through the haze of blood and clarity came rushing back to her. Asterra looked down at the still man that no longer fought beneath her. Arms lay sprawled above his head; and his face…she grimaced to keep herself from retching at the sight.

The sleeves of the sweatshirt rustle against her skin, the only sign that the Dokujo was sliding off of her. But that sensation was distant, overwhelmed by the blood in her nose, the throbbing in her arm. The hammering in her chest at the thought that this man could be—

_No, no, no. He's not, I didn't. It's not my fault._

Images she doesn't know draped over her vision like cut tulle.

_Her mouth tastes like metal. Something cold lies against her head. A bloodied face in front of her, reassuring her in a hoarse voice that everything is all right when it obviously is not. A deep voice howling with a rage she has never heard before and spitting words of venom, body too broken to fight, to protect. If only curses could act upon reality…_

Stimuli whirled as she stumbled off the man, almost kicked off of him in the process. A foreign thrill lanced through her, from the center of her chest and whirled within her limbs with a desperate fury of a prisoner tasting freedom. But there was no elation. Only fear, fear and repulsion crawling within her and clawing after the thrill, a prison warden hunting down its quarry.

"No." She gritted her teeth and screwed her eyes shut. Placed one hand against a tree to steady herself against the tsunami of stimuli that crashed against her conscious and made her want to vomit as she attempted to rein in that thrill. "That didn't happen, that's not real. Get back, get back, go back."

"Asterra?" A hesitant voice rained down from behind.

She pushed herself off the tree and staggered over to the still man, muttering, "Can't stop here, can't stop here. Tag, tag, tag." Started rifling through his pockets, hands fumbling with zippers and flaps.

"Hey, hey. Take it easy." Kikiri steps onto the man's chest and obscures her view.

She shook her head. "No, have to keep going. Have to find tag. Focus on now, now, now. Not on what's in my head."

Kikiri blinked and cocked his head. "They're back. The scary memories."

"Not mine!" she hissed, something pricking her eyes. Her vision blurred and her throat closed. "Not mine. Need to keep head up, keep moving." Her fingers tore at fabric.

"You don't want to be overwhelmed by these…" the Dokujo paused to choose his words carefully. "Thoughts, because you can't afford to slow down right now."

She nodded, prying open a pocket as she tried to shove everything back, back, back where it came from because she did _not_ have time for this and these memory-like non-memories were _not real_ and that thrill was bad, bad, bad.

 _What is wrong with me?_ The dreams, the panic attacks, and now these fits—all the things that used to happen when she was younger were coming back with a vengeance, as if trying to make up for their two years of absence. The dreams, fine—but the panic attacks and fits? Had she not grown out of them? Why, why, why? Why now? Why were these things that slowed her down manifesting themselves during the Hunter Exam, of all places? She couldn't afford this delay, she couldn't afford to be gasping for air, she had tags to find, to collect, she had to get that license—

The sound of vertebrae popping filled her ears. Warm cords of muscle and fur wrapped around her. "Breathe. It's ok, Asterra. Breathe. Breathe and let the memories wash over you."

Between breaths Asterra choked out, "Not mine. Don't want them. Make them go away."

Kikiri nuzzled her cheek. "It's scary to see things, hear things that you don't remember. Even scarier when the memories themselves aren't happy ones. But I'm here, and I won't let them take you away. So let them come and go. Remember when we used to sit with mom and dad on the beach? What did the tides do?"

Memories of playing in the waves fight through the veil of fear. Memories of her father twirling her around, her mother splashing water in her face with a large grin on her face and that ridiculous hat billowing in the wind. "Go in and out."

"That's right. In and out, in and out. All things pass, one way or another."

Kikiri's voice melded with another's—her mother's, she realized—and replayed over and over in her head. The Resca bit her lip as she wrapped her arms around herself and Kikiri. Breathed in, out, in, out. She felt the coldness against her brow and heard the hoarse voice in her ears, but they weren't as bad as they had been before. And with a deep breath she extended her hand toward the man. The trembling in her fingers abated, made it easier to pry though folds of cloths for hidden pockets. A few minutes later she stumbled across a hidden pocket that held a tag.

Tag #339.

She exhaled in relief, her grip tightening around the circular object.

"Is it the right one?" Kikiri asked.

Asterra nodded as she squirreled away the tag. "About damn time."

"Time to go meet up with Gon, then."

Asterra nodded, then looked once more at the man's face. Reached for the man's neck to—

"He's alive," Kikiri interrupted. "I felt him breathing earlier. We probably shouldn't stick around to see him wake up though."

Asterra paused, then pulled her hand back, stood up, and ran. It didn't even cross her mind that Kikiri had left a rather crucial adverb out.

_Barely._

=o=o=o=

Meanwhile, Gon was in the midst of a battle of reflexes in the thick foliage of the forest.

Asterra had not been able to say much about Mouse except that he was fast and had an accurate throw. But from the way things had been going, it could be said that he didn't have much going for him except for those two traits and knife-fighting.

He landed on a thick branch and ducked behind a trunk, taking a quick breath. And when the crack of twigs reached his ear in that familiar rhythm indicative of walking, he leaped down.

His foot was met by a block and a hiss of pain. The boy then twisted once more in the air and his other foot cracked against the side of Mouse's head. The man stumbled sideways, dazed, for a precious moment as Gon landed on the ground, then with a snarl he threw out several knives in an arc.

 _How many of those does he have?_ While he had seen Mouse collect fallen knives from time to time, it was still weird that he had so many of them. Oh well; as long as he didn't get hit, it didn't matter how many knives Mouse had.

The Whale Island native ducked and dove into the nearby bushes—

—to come to a cliff.

_Uh-oh._

Mouse burst forth from the bushes and another arc of knives whizzed through the air. Gon dove to the side to avoid the flurry of steel aimed for his face.

"No place can hide, boy," Mouse smiled, a bead of sweat trailing down his face. His chest heaved with effort. Gon turned to face him, fishing rod in hand. The cliff itself wasn't that far of the drop—he'd leaped off of higher cliffs back on Whale Island—but he didn't know the sea here.

The man started to circle him, like a cat stalking his prey. Gon followed him, pivoting on one foot. And then a slight movement, a twitch in the man's legs, caught his eye, and his brown eyes narrowed.

Mouse's arm flashed and another knife sailed at him. But Gon heard the scrabble of dirt beneath boot and knew that his opponent was moving, moving, moving.

The distracter knife sliced his cheek and Mouse loomed over him in the next moment. With a hiss the boy side-stepped. And as Mouse took another step at the place Gon used to be, the boy twisted towards Mouse, snapping his wrist simultaneously. The heavier-than-it-seemed lure caught the man's ribs with a dull thud and made him stagger—

—off the edge.

"Oh no—" Gon rushed to the edge in an attempt to grab him, but his fingers failed to grasp cloth and the man hit water.

For a moment the man didn't surface. But when he did, Mouse's eyes were wild and his arms floundered in what back at Whale Island was called the "fishfood stroke"—the desperate attempt to stay afloat by one who did not know how to swim.

Gon blinked, then scanned his environment. And when he found a small path that lead down to the water, he took it.

=o=o=o=

Gon was not where Asterra expected him to be. No, she did not expect him to be descending cliffs towards the sea right after someone went flying into the waters. But then again, he was a bag of surprises…so maybe it was better if she stopped expecting and started accepting.

She hooded her eyes as she peered across the water. "What is he…?"

"Looks like he's fishing that Squirrel person out of the water," Kikiri chirped. "Geez, is that a hobby of his?"

She frowned for a moment, then asked, "You mean Mouse?"

"Mouse, Squirrel, same thing. They're both food."

She rolled her eyes and then started looking for a way down to the shore. "Better tell him I got the tag I needed before he invests too much in Mouse."

By the time she was on the beach, Gon was listening for Mouse's heartbeat, his ear on his chest.

"Were you a lifeguard or something?" Kikiri asked. "That's the second time this day you've dragged somebody out of the water."

"That's what happens when you live on Whale Island," Gon replied.

"I've got the tag I was assigned." Asterra rested her hand on her sword pommel. "So don't worry about his."

"Actually, I was just making sure he was okay." The Whale Island native started to drag the man to nearby shade.

"Is dragging him to the shade necessary?"

Only the sound of sand shifting under heavy weight answered her query, although at this point she didn't know why she had even asked. It was apparent that Gon had a penchant for helping competitors and strangers. So instead she grabbed the boy's fishing rod and bag then trudged after him, sand filling her shoes slowly and steadily. By the time she walked over Mouse had been situated into shade, propped up against a tree. The chuckle of water told her there was a brook nearby—a nice source of water for a dazed individual.

"Better luck next year," Gon said softly.

"Satisfied?" The Resca held out the boy's possessions.

"Yep," he grinned, taking a step—

—and then there was that blade-thin malice suddenly coming to life.

"Gon, run!" Kikiri shrieked as Asterra's hand flashed to her weapon, the boy's possessions falling to the sandy shore, forgotten.

Too late, too late. Wiry arms had wrapped around the boy and silver gleamed at his throat, taunting and cackling at her inattention.

"Much thanks, _Gon_ , for helped." Mouse's broken Basic warbled, as if the tones he used in his own language were being translated into English as well. "Now, will help, Asterra?"

She briefly wondered if there was a way to break his hold on Gon and have Mouse on the floor, face in the sand.

" _Will help, Asterra_?" The blade angled to a savage degree. The boy looked at the steel with a wary eye and squirmed, but to no avail.

_**You don't have to. Who says you must help this foolish boy that willingly placed himself in danger?** _

The reptile brain was right. She was under no obligation to help Gon. No contract, no promises, nothing. She had what she needed – the #339 tag from Ezo—as well as an extra #197 tag. What was keeping her from leaving him behind?

_**To live is to take. To live is to devour. To live is to be ruthless. There is no place for the foolish, the too-kind, the too-giving, save for under the earth as a feast for maggots. Leave him.** _

She bit the inside of her lip. That was the life she had lived so far, yes. Taking and devouring food that was not hers, keeping her own ass alive. Being ruthless to survive, to become something that nobody dared to cross or anger. Eventually, somebody not even worth risking interaction with. Alone she had been for the past six years: the solitude her armor, her reptile brain her weapon, and Kikiri her one constant. But something was cementing her feed to the ground, keeping her rooted there. Something foreign sat heavy in her stomach like a lump of metal.

"Asterra, no." Kikiri growled softly. "I know what you're thinking, and it's not the answer here. He _helped_ you. He's done nothing _but_ help you. This is not Training."

_This is not Training._

_This is not Training._

This was not Training.

This was not Training, and he had helped her. Had saved her life when he didn't have to.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Lex talionis, the law of retaliation. A punishment for each transgression committed against her.

…

…

…But why not apply it as a gift for favors owed?

Her lips seemingly painted on from the thinness, she slowly took her hand off the weapon and bared her palms toward Mouse, keeping them waist-level. Even if spoken language was not universal, body language was. "How about we make a deal? Tags for the boy."

Mouse smiled and opened his mouth to speak.

 _Oh no you don't._ Mouse had the upper hand in this situation by holding Gon hostage. If he started talking and initiated deal-making, put his desires on the table first, the power balance would shift overwhelmingly towards him.

So Asterra interrupted. "Between Gon and I, we have five tags," she started. "Four of these tags cannot be your target tag, and thus will only be worth one point to you."

"Rules I aware."

"And you're not getting those four," Gon glared.

"Quiet boy is smart boy," Mouse chided, an amused smile on his lips. He still dug his fingernails into Gon's cheek, making the boy wince.

Her stomach roiled at the blood. Kikiri hissed. "Just give the signal," he whispered, his claws digging into shoulder pads and muscles tensing up for a leap, the fur around his mouth still crimson. "One bite in the neck and he's gone."

 _First rule of negotiation, Asterra: never show that you're desperate._ Rutello's voice echoed in the back of her head. Of all times to pop up.

She stroked the Dokujo still high on endorphins from tasting blood earlier. Memories of feral snarling, of screaming and swearing, and a bloody Kikiri flashed in her mind's eye. "I know what you're capable of, Kikiri. I'll let you know when I need your fangs." She looked up at the man. "I'm going to take out what tags I have." She then slowly unzipped her coat and reached into the false lining where she stashed the tags and took them out, fanning them like playing cards. "These two are mine. But the third one could be your tag."

"Show."

She flipped the tag around and saw the man's eyes light up with glee. _By the Spirits._ This was the tag Kikiri had found during a hunt. Was this Mouse's target?

Mouse nodded once. "Tag for boy."

"Let Gon go first," the Resca countered.

Mouse shook his head. "No. I count three. At three, throw the tag at me and I let go."

Asterra glanced at Gon and flicked her chin. The Whale Island native nodded back. She then met eyes with Mouse and nodded.

The man counted off. "One. Two. Three."

She tossed the tag like a frisbee at him; Mouse shoved Gon forward. The boy darted like a hunted hare, sand kicking up at his steps. Mouse caught the tag easily with his free hand as the Resca placed herself between him and Gon, hand on hilt.

"We're done here." She said flatly.

"Yes." Mouse tipped his head forward in a slight bow – not deep enough to be one of reverence. It was more like a sign of acknowledgement and maybe a hint of respect, depending on his cultural heritage. She couldn't place the accent and thus couldn't form any conclusions.

Asterra nodded, then began to retreat backwards. Gon had already grabbed his possessions and was ready to go.

"Cautious girl. No worries; deal good. I not hurt you," Mouse assured as he put away the tag.

Regardless, she did not take her eyes off him until they were back in the sea of tall grass.

=o=o=o=

The two did not stop until they reached the area they had eaten fish earlier.

"Thanks," Gon said sheepishly. "I didn't expect him to do that."

"You're…welcome," she replied, the words hesitant and a little foreign on her tongue. "Hopefully you'll be more careful in the future."

"I guess I should. But it all worked out in the end—Aunt Mito was right again."

Kikiri chirped quizzically. "About…?"

"'What goes around, comes around.'"

"Gon, you helped him and then he held a _knife to your throat_." Asterra crossed her arms. "How does that align to what your aunt taught you?"

"You didn't leave me behind." He looked at her solemnly. "What goes around, comes around. Mouse might not have helped me, but you did."

She raised an eyebrow. "If you hadn't helped me, you wouldn't have been in that situation to begin with."

"But I did, and I was in that situation. And you helped." Gon beamed. "And that's why people should help each other."

With that statement, a new sentence was added to her mental profile of Gon. _A bag of surprises and infallible optimism._ The Resca pinched the bridge of her nose. "You are incorrigible."

"I'm not a corgi?"

Kikiri snickered at the boy's confused words. Asterra's lips twitched into a half-smile and she restated, "You're stubborn."

"That's not a bad thing," the Whale Island Native pouted.

She merely chuckled and shook her head in response.

=o=o=o=

The afternoon was spent finding a suitable shelter for the night. As the sun set they came across a cave in the rock face that, according to Gon, was absent of any wildlife. When Kikiri agreed that there were not any current residents, they set up camp for the night and ate a small meal supplemented by some of the dried fruit she had taken from the Sniper.

"I'll take first watch," she stated as she took the blanket out of her pack.

"Wake me up in a couple hours, then. It's not fair if it's just you taking watch," Gon added.

 _It sure wouldn't be._ After a brief exchange it was decided that Asterra, Gon, and Kikiri would take turns maintaining a three-hour watch. As she took her spot at the mouth of the cave, blanket wrapped lightly around her shoulders and scabbard laid across her lap, a question rained down from behind the cave.

"Kikiri, when we were facing off with Mouse…what did you mean by, 'This isn't Training?'" Gon asked. He had made his pack a pillow and his head was resting on it.

The Dokujo looked up sleepily at Gon. "Ask Asterra. Not my story to tell."

"Asterra?"

The Resca looked back at him. "Yeah?"

"What was Training like?"

Her response was slow and deliberate. "Why the sudden interest?"

Gon repeated the same rationale he had given Kikiri. "That, and you said not a lot of people in your clan died during the Hunter Exam. So it must be really good training, right?"

"You could say that." _Depending on what you mean by "good."_

"So what was it like? What did you do?"

"Drills. Conditioning. Survival outings. Mock battles." She hoped that these generic terms would be enough to satisfy the boy's interest, because he was not going to receive very much more information was that.

But of course, it wasn't. "Is that it?" Gon pressed.

The slightly-disappointed tone made her chuckle. "Military training isn't that exciting; what were you expecting?"

"I dunno…like learning how to use guns? Explosives?"

"We did that."

"Well, ok, maybe not that. But in the movies, there's soldiers fighting for the forces of good. Or like what police officers and firefighters might do—going into danger to save people."

"You make it sound like you were expecting me to be a superhero." She then quipped, "Sorry for disappointing you."

"What? I didn't say that." The Whale Island native shot up. "The way you made that deal with Mouse and stayed calm throughout the whole thing, then made sure I got away safely. It's just that when Kikiri said 'This isn't Training,' he made it sound like Training taught you not to help others. But aren't soldiers supposed to help those that can't protect themselves?"

Asterra averted her eyes from Gon. "Your point?"

"What kind of Training teaches you that it's bad to help others? Doesn't your clan think that helping others is a good thing?"

Something in her marveled at his astute intuition. But something stronger flared in her gut at his words, a mix of stung pride and fury— _how dare you insult my clan!_ —but she bit it back. Gon didn't mean it in a malicious way—his tone and open body language suggested curiosity.

She still found it hard to think of a reply without snapping at him.

"We aren't like that." It was the Dokujo who answered, his voice crisp and devoid of drowsiness. He probably felt the slight surge of malice from Asterra and had decided to chime in before more damage was done. "Of course we think it's a good thing to help others."

"So why—" Gon started.

"I had a different type of Training than most," the Resca interjected. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't assume things."

"Oh." The boy blinked. "I've made you angry."

"No," Asterra responded as Kikiri said, "A little." The Resca shot a glare at the Dokujo, who simply shrugged as much as a quadruped animal could shrug.

She rubbed the back of her neck, took a breath, then started again. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm happy to serve as an…ambassador, I guess, for my clan. I'll do my best to answer your questions. Just know that I've also only lived among the Resca for Training, which was different from what the majority of my clan did, so I don't know everything. And what I do and don't do aren't completely representative of my clan."

Gon was silent for a moment, digesting the information. For a moment Asterra wondered if she had said something odd or had confused him, but the boy then nodded in understanding. For the next hour he asked about Mereta and what it was like—the land ("mountainous, with forests, grasslands and plateaus"), the people ("tough, in tune with nature, wary of outsiders"), the animals ("typical forest animals, with some rare ones"). He skirted around the topic of Training, but backed off when she said that she swore an oath not to discuss specific details (which was not a lie). The topic then changed to what her parents were like, what they did, where they were now.

She found herself talking a lot in response to those questions. Her words would never do her memories justice, but she made the attempt to describe the multifaceted individuals that were her parents. Of Corydon, a father that was meticulous and adventurous, his curiosity propelling him to dig deeper into his field of study – a long-dead civilization that once dominated the coasts that now belonged to Kakin and the Federation of Ochima but left traces of their existence in what was now Bergosse Union and the Yorbian continent. Of Elevia, a mother who was kind and loved people, who had an eccentric taste of fashion considered outlandish in Mereta. She studied how religion was related to the social structure of isolated coastal tribes. Asterra always wondered how a woman so full of life and smiles came to study such a serious subject.

Regardless, she couldn't wait to see them both again; talking on the phone could only do so much. Provided she got back to Mereta alive, they would be present at her _Sharak'ennah_ , or in Basic, "Growth Celebration"—basically a party to celebrate a youth becoming an adult upon returning after completing three phases of the Hunter Exam. Another reason to survive this Hunter Exam and get home in one piece.

The Resca only stopped talking when she realized that Gon wasn't responding anymore—the boy had curled up into a ball with a small, satisfied grin on his face.

 _Guess he's having a good dream._ She tightened the blanket around her and focused on watch once more.

=o=

**Day 5, Noon**

"Hey, there they are!" Gon whispered excitedly, pointing to the west.

Asterra looked toward where the boy's finger was and saw two individuals from their perch in a tall tree—one tall and dark-haired, another blond and wearing orange and blue. _Ah._

"Let's go meet up with them!" Gon hurriedly climbed down the tree. "Man, now we just need to find Killua—Asterra? Aren't you coming?"

"This is where we part," she said. "I'm not working with them."

"Oh come on, don't say that," Kikiri sighed. "It would be a good time to apologize."

Asterra glared at Kikiri's use of the a-word. "No."

He rolled his eyes in the typical "stop being a spoiled child" look.

"What? Why not?" Gon queried.

"Because I'm not working with an uppity do-gooder. It'll only slow me down."

The Whale Island native frowned. "What happened?"

"Ask Kurapika," she replied as she pointed a thumb over her shoulder.

"What about Leorio?"

"I don't mind him as much, but he's with Blondie. So no."

"Umm, okay…Isn't there anything I can do to help you and Kurapika make up?"

Kikiri suddenly leaped down from the tree and landed on Gon's shoulder. "Give it a couple days, Gon," Kikiri said. "Then she'll cool down and maybe something will work out."

"'Maybe'?"

"You're not the only stubborn one," Kikiri sighed. "But thank you for trying. And I know I'm asking a lot, but keep reaching out to her. She'll come around eventually."

"Okay," Gon nodded. "Are you two going to be all right?"

"Yeah…as long as we don't run into some monster. See you on the boat."

Gon smiled and scratched Kikiri behind the ear, then looked up to Asterra and waved. "See you later!"

She nodded, and her reply slipped out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying. "See you on the boat." Kikiri returned to her shoulder and she watched the boy leap through the trees with the expertise of a squirrel. The boy made it to the other two applicants safely, and seemed to converse with them animatedly. Then Leorio and Kurapika looked up in her direction.

 _Time to disappear._ She swung off the branch with her good hand and dropped to the forest floor, where the foliage hid her from view.

Now that Gon was gone, she decided to change her bandages and re-dress her wound. The river was easy to find, and a place to hide even easier.

"That wound smells weird," Kikiri commented, his nose wrinkling.

Asterra carefully washed the area with river water, chasing away pink butterflies that fluttered around her bared bicept. She then applied antiseptic once more to the now angrily red wounds, and picked up the wooden container. "It's probably the ointment."

He cocked his head in uncertainty. "Maybe…"

The Resca reapplied clean bandages once more, packing away the bloodied ones into a separate place in her bag. It was a shame she didn't have a pot; she could boil the cloths and disinfect them that way. "Well, we got less than two days left now." She opened and closed her left hand, then moved her arm in different directions, wincing as pain pulsated through her left bicep.

"Yippee! We can relax! Sunbathe!" Kikiri chirped as he fell back-first into a pile of tall grass.

She chuckled and ran a hand through her hair. Relaxing sounded nice. Maybe hunker down somewhere close to the boat so she could leisurely make her way over on the seventh day. Gon had taught her some tips about fishing she had never learned in Training; maybe she could test them out.

Plans of what to do with this unexpected free time spun lazily in her head as she rubbed a sore spot on her neck. But when her fingertips failed to touch something that was usually around her neck, her eyes widened.

"What's wrong?" Kikiri's voice was sleepy, as he were on the cusp of napping and wakefulness.

"It's gone." Asterra had gone ramrod straight and hand her palm lay on her upper sternum. It then swam around the base of her neck.

"What's gone?"

"Oh shit, shit, shit." The Resca leapt to her feet and searched intently around where she had been sitting.

"Asterra, what's gone?" Kikiri's tone wasn't sleepy anymore.

"My _tamga._ "

Asterra simply continued to search the surrounding area, muttering frantically in Resca. Kikiri also leapt to his feet and started looking for the tag.

The _tamga,_ despite being simple in appearance, was one of a Resca's most prized possessions. When a Resca woman became pregnant, it was tradition for her to cooperate with her husband (or a male prepared to serve as a father figure to the child, if the husband was absent) to make the wooden tag and the string so the _tamga_ could be hung around the neck. It was the first gift that a Resca received from his/her parent that also served as a form of identification in Mereta. In terms of importance, it was similar to a passport.

Yes, she had paperwork to prove her identity. Travelling to other countries had made it necessary to have them, as no other places accepted a form of identification with no photo on it. The Resca, on the other hand, claimed that while papers could be forged, parents' love for a child could not. The inspectors that served as customs officers at the border of Mereta were specially trained to recognize the tags.

There were ways around the system – if ten people with legitimate _tamga_ could verify that an individual was kin, they could be allowed through. But even if practical matters could be addressed, losing one's _tamga_ was considered an inauspicious sign.

She stood up and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. So much for relaxing for the next two days.

* * *

**A nice, juicy 18 pages for you guys. Hope you enjoyed it!**

**I've drawn another picture of Asterra, this time with Kikiri. The hairstyle's a little different and she looks like she's in her twenties, but it's there if you want to see. Just search Turrean on DeviantArt and you'll find my page.**

**As always, thanks for reading to the end.**

**-Rhyss**


	29. A Not so Minor Annoyance

**Hi everyone; hope you enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

**Day 5, Afternoon**

A whistle cut through the near-silent clearing—not one that signaled for an attack, but something out of amazement.

Killua was peering at a man in his…well, he couldn't really tell what age he was. The applicant's face was swollen, his jaw and nose broken, making the face look like an amorphous mass. It reminded Killua of what happened when one mixed up the flan or jello in a bowl until it was in blobs.

"Guess someone did a real number on you." He poked at the body carefully, but it did not move, likely still knocked out from the beating that had caused all the injuries. The slight movements of the chest indicated that he was still alive…but if he didn't get medical attention soon, he would probably die. And if the man happened to have the stupid toughness of a cockroach, he would walk away with a misshapen face that only extensive amounts of plastic surgery would be able to fix.

"Who'd you tick off?" Blue eyes, shining with a mild curiosity, roved over the man's body until it settled on a clenched hand. He took a step back and kneeled, carefully prying the man's fingers apart. His efforts were rewarded, and when he pulled his hand away he held a wooden hexagonal tag on a ripped cord…a tag that looked a lot like the one Goldfish wore around her neck.

Another memory appeared in his mind: of the time Goldfish had stopped the fight—well, more like a scuffle—between the tall one (Rioleo?) and the fat one while in the Trick Tower. Although the altercation had been short, it had offered valuable insight into the way she fought: streamlined and focused around brutal counterattacks. The style reminded him of mercenaries encountered on a mission he had completed with Dad and his oldest brother a few years ago.

=o=o=o=

**Republic of Rokario, Several years ago**

Killua decided that if he did have to come back to the southern lands of Rokario, he was going to bring a truckload of pesticides with him so he could kill every last one of the freakishly large mosquitos in this place. He didn't care if every mosquito that bit him died due to the high concentration of poisons in his blood; he still got bug bites and they _itched_ like crazy. He'd gone through a whole tube of anti-itch cream during the brief stay here—the umpteenth mission to kill some politicians who had pissed off the wrong rich guy.

It was a standard enough mission, but there was something far from standard about the bodyguards of their targets. Their eyes were too clear and sharp, and they were dressed in odd tribal clothes that had to be way too hot for this climate. Their skin was the wrong shade to be natives of Rokario, and the language they spoke sounded different from the various dialects of this country. And then there was something off about the…air around them. It felt heavy, and not because of the humidity.

"Dad, who are those people?" he asked hesitantly.

"People that Illumi and I will deal with. You just make sure to take out all the targets while the bodyguards are busy."

Killua nodded, wrapping himself in the shadows of a nearby pillar, and with that Illumi and Dad stormed into the room. From his hiding spot Killua observed a sight he had never seen before: the two older Zoldycks _exchanging blows_ with this strange group of humans, rather than simply assassinating them. And for some reason, these bodyguards were enough to hold off two Zoldycks for a couple of minutes to let the politicians escape.

Bad idea. It didn't take Killua even a minute to eliminate all the targets.

The older Zoldycks won in the end, albeit Illumi ended up with a broken collarbone and arm. Even Dad's side was bleeding from a sword wound, though that was nothing more than a scratch for him. After ensuring the men and women were dead by slitting their throats, Dad beckoned him over to a corpse with its intestines spilling out of a gut wound. "Did you see their fighting style?"

"Yeah." Killua nodded.

"Good. Don't forget it. Don't forget these either." Dad then pointed to a dead bodyguard's neck, specifically at the necklace he wore: two wooden tags, shiny with lacquer and slick with blood, hanging on a vibrantly colored cord. The tags had symbols engraved on one side and foreign letters on the other.

"Dad, who are these people?"

"They're Resca: a clan from the northern lands whose people all undergo military training. Some become mercenaries—good ones worth their salt."

The young boy cocked his head. "But you still beat them."

Killua felt a familiar weight on his head—Dad ruffling his hair. "These people were good, but they have something better."

"Wraiths." Illumi said, his voice as flat as ever.

Dad nodded.

"Wraiths?" Killua echoed.

"That's what the underworld calls the Resca special forces. Only a few of them ever leave their homeland but you hear about them…every couple of decades. Not much information about them out there, but they make up for it in rumors."

"Like what?"

"That they only accept recruits ages ten or younger. That they brainwash their recruits into perfect patriotic puppets that only exist to protect their homeland. That there's only a few recruits because they eat each other during training."

"Really?" Illumi drawled.

"Like I said—rumors abound, but nothing concrete." Dad then proceeded to check every dead bodyguard's necklace. "Hmm. Not one here, huh."

"What are you doing?" Killua asked.

"All the Resca I've faced off with have different colored cords for their tags. I never figured out the symbolism for each color, but supposedly there's one way you can identify a Wraith."

"There is?" Illumi asked quizzically.

"Well, this info is from one of Grandpa's 'experiences' so take it with a grain of salt. According to him, though, all Wraiths wear their wooden tags on black cords."

"Black cords, huh…" Illumi mused. He then turned to Killua and ruffled his hair. While Killua didn't mind it when Dad did it, something about Illumi's touch made his hairs stand on end. Maybe it was how Illumi put too much force into the action and made it seem like he was trying to crush Killua's head. "Kil, make sure you don't fight Resca, especially ones with black cords. Wouldn't want anything to happen to my dear baby brother."

"It's not a fact I've been able to verify." Silva placed a hand against the sword wound and slowly inhaled and exhaled. He then turned his eyes to Killua. "Regardless, don't fight Resca until we tell you you're old enough. Sneak around them, run away from them, but do not engage them in combat. If that's not possible, call me or Grandpa for backup. Understand?"

Killua nodded. "Yeah."

=o=o=o=

**Zevil Island, Present day**

Killua looked down at the tag in his hand and the cord it was hung from.

A black cord braided from a multitude of fibers—horsehair, maybe?

Well, well, well. A lot of the puzzling things about Goldfish could be explained if she had been indeed trained as special forces. The way she didn't balk in the face of danger, the way she hid her presence, her heightened physical capabilities. The way she could flip a switch into something willing to kill, like she had done when her Dokujo companion was being crushed by that Trick Tower prisoner. Like she had done with this unlucky sod at his feet.

He studied the tag in his hand, which was faintly warm. He studied the carvings on both sides carefully. One side had a circle and some shape that curved around the circle; it looked like a simplified version of a woman with her hair loosely gathered on one side. The other side had non-Basic letters carved into it in neat lines. But the strangest characteristic about the tag was what Killua could best express as a warmth emanating from the strange wood. Not the warmth that came from being in a human's hand for extended periods of time, but a warmth that had weight and made him feel…feel…

What the heck was this feeling? Just holding this pendant made him feel like it was okay to let his guard down, that everything was and has been and would be okay.

He wanted to throw the thing away, but his hand refused to move and he found himself wanting to stare at the pendant forever. With a final hiss he shoved the thing into his pocket. "I'm keeping it to get information out of Goldfish," he told himself.

…Then repeated the words out loud for good measure.

=o=o=o=

**Day 6, Noon**

"Stop eating your food so angrily. It takes away from the flavor," Kikiri chided.

The Resca looked up from the fish she was tearing into. Her hair, loose from its ponytail, hugged her shoulders and back and somehow avoided to become covered with fish flesh.

"Being angry's not going to help you find your _tamga_ any faster. Might as well enjoy your food."

"I just need enough to get moving again."

And there she goes again, rushing through life. Even if Training had not been a favorable environment for relaxing, she could at least take life's little pleasures as they presented themselves. He'd tried telling her that once, but it had fallen on deaf ears. Now he was left wondering if he should just press the issue or let her learn it herself after too many years of rushing.

For now, he opted for the latter. "Suit yourself." She was agitated enough already; best not to send her careening over the edge with another one of his (as Asterra put it) "mother-hen nagging."

Asterra picked up her second fish and tore into the hot flesh. Kikiri merely shook his head and continued to eat.

The Resca deftly finished the rest of the fish within a few minutes and washed her bandaged hands in the river.

"How's your arm?" Kikiri asked.

Asterra rotated her left arm and gingerly poked the wounded spots. Heat leached through the bandages to her fingertips and a dull pain radiated from where she prodded. "Same as yesterday." She clenched and unclenched her fist, then experimentally struck a nearby rock. Pain zigzagged up her arm and made her wince. _Shit—I didn't even hit it that hard…_

The Dokujo's voice was disapproving. "You mean worse?"

"I'll live." She started to erase signs of her campfire and other signs of her presence. Kikiri harrumphed but did not push the issue further, instead gobbling up the rest of the fish's flesh and then flinging its remains into the river.

The Resca extended her arm and Kikiri clambered up to his usual spot on Asterra's shoulder. "By the way," the Dokujo started, "you've got some—"

"Oh, Goldfish. Finally found you."

She knew that voice, had logged it into her brain as the voice of a danger. Muscles tensed and she whirled, hand resting on the hilt of the sword.

As predicted: Small stature, silver hair, dark blue eyes. Spirits damn him, what was Killua doing here?

"Hey, you got a little something there…" he pointed to his own cheek, then frowned. "Actually, you got a little something everywhere. Jeez, table manners much?"

She glared and made no move.

"Goldfish, if I wanted to kill you I'd have done it while you back was turned. So seriously, wipe your face. You look ridiculous."

Bandaged right arm rose and Asterra scrubbed at her mouth. When she peeked at the back of her hand, there were pieces of fish in the folds…lots of fish pieces. _Well shit; that's embarrassing._

"You got it all, in case you were wondering."

Her voice had more of an edge than it should have. "What do you want, Killua?"

"Asterra!" Kikri's tone was sharp and reprimanding. For a moment that puzzled her—generally she and Kikiri were on the same page about who was a threat—but then she remembered. _Oh, right. Kikiri didn't see what Killua did on the blimp._

"Wow, that's cold." Killua was standing at the fringe of the forest, the shadows from the foliage providing him with slight cover. His mouth was set in a mock pout, like a displeased child. "But then again, fish are cold-blooded."

"Rich, that. Coming from an assassin."

"Awww, come on. What did I ever do to you?"

"Well, let's see." She counted off on her fingers. "You threatened to kill me. Your presence is irritating. Your antics are—"

"Oh-kay, I get the point. You don't like me."

"Astute observation." Sea-green eyes glittered coldly, not quite murderous-sharp yet.

"Well, like I care." The boy harrumphed as he walked towards her. "But because I'm super-nice, I'll still give you what I found."

Asterra kept her hand on the hilt but her voice held a note of interest. "Give me what?"

He took his left fist out of his pocket and held it out towards her, as if he were offering a fistbump. But then his pale fingers uncurled and something fell out, only to dangle in midair because the string hung securely from Killua's middle finger.

 _My tamga!_ The Resca's eyes widened and she fought to keep her tone flat. "Where did you find that?"

"Found it in some knocked out guy's hands. I'm guessing you're the one who beat the living daylights out of him."

Ah…so he had found Ezo then. "Was he…alive?"

"Barely." The boy cocked his head. "Why'd you hesitate? I'm not going to judge you for killing a person."

She smiled thinly. "As if I'd care how you judged me." _Well, save for if he decided that I was a target to kill._ "Why are you offering to give this back to me?"

"Nice avoidance," he remarked. "But anyway, I thought it'd be something you'd appreciate…Resca-san."

 _Ah, so a favor for information, then?_ But then something snagged on her thoughts.

… _How does he know I'm a Resca?_

Asterra didn't remember telling Killua her last name. In fact, she didn't remember saying her full name to anyone in the Hunter Exam, mostly out of a desire to remain an anomaly. There was power in secrecy, in being unreadable by your enemy. Then how did he—

"Or should I call you Wraith-san?"

For a moment the girl just blinked; Kikiri pressed up against her neck and became very still, a fur scarf in too hot weather.

Then Asterra's tense muscles loosened, her back relaxed into a posture of casual indifference. Bandaged fingers uncurled from the hilt and the heel of her hand came to rest on the pommel. A slight tilt of her head made her hair swish slightly, strands of orange hanging over sea-green in a stark contrast. "What-san?" she asked.

The boy's hands were tucked in his pockets again, the _tamga_ gone with it. "Wraith-san."

"First Goldfish, now Wraith." A light chuckle, a flash of teeth in a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm flattered. Why the sudden promotion though?"

Silver brows furrowed for a moment, and a look of slight annoyance seemed to cross his features. And if she wasn't mistaken, his posture had stiffened slightly. Whatever response he had been expecting, it hadn't been that.

After a few more moments of quiet study (which seemed to compose most of her encounters with Killua), he shrugged. "On second thought, I prefer Goldfish."

"There's a shocker. But you know what's even better? _As-te-rra._ " She drew an exaggerated pause between each syllable.

"Eh, Goldfish is better," he shrugged. "But you are a Resca, right?"

She sighed. "Yes."

"That means this is yours." He extended the _tamga_ towards her.

"Yes." She held out her hand. "And I'd like it back." The Resca expected another antic or teasing words and readied herself to deliver an acerbic reply.

But Killua, apparently, was still unpredictable for her. "Sure." He tossed the _tamga_ at her. "Probably wouldn't sell for much anyway."

"It's value doesn't come from money," the Resca replied, her tone sharp, as she caught the tag. But then her eyes widened as her fingers touched something sticky. "You put resin on the ends."

He shrugged. "Found some while walking here. The strands were coming apart."

"…Thanks." She put the _tamga_ around her neck, the feeling of the wood against her skin making a certain degree of tension leave her shoulders. This phase wasn't over yet, Killua was still in sight, and there were still applicants out there she had to worry about. But she had her six points required to pass and the _tamga_ was back in her hands. Small, but definite victories. All she had to do was hang onto both for another day or so.

"What are you going to do now?" Killua asked.

"Why should I tell you?"

The assassin cocked his head. "Look, if it makes you feel any better I've got my six points." As if to prove his point, he produced two tags from his trouser pocket.

First giving her back her _tamga,_ now sharing information rather freely. _What's this pint-size playing at?_ Whatever the case, from his body language it didn't seem like he was lying about having six points…although this was an assassin she was dealing with. Lying, deception, and the like were most likely second nature to him—the usual rules of using body language to deduce intentions was not going to work on him.

Curiosity got the better of her—curiosity about this game of most-likely-faux cooperative intentions Killua seemed to be playing. "I've got the points I need as well, so I'm laying low until this phase is over. What are you going to do?"

"Mmmm. I still have a day to kill and I'm bored." The boy stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked towards the sky. "Hmm…what should I do…?"

"Well, hope you figure it out." Asterra backed away and hopped onto a boulder in the river.

"Oh, I know! I'll follow you."

She almost lost her balance as her mind registered Killua's words. _OH HELL NO._

=o=o=o=

**Day 6, Afternoon**

" _Or should I call you Wraith-san?"_

He'd asked the question on impulse, to test a theory.

The majority of the response had been tepid. But there had been a brief, brief moment where all the light left the sea-green eyes and had been replaced by a darkness. A darkness Killua knew well, because he harbored something similar. A Darkness that came out to play with its friend Bloodlust when the situation required it.

It had been much more difficult than expected to track down Goldfish. He had to hand it to her—she knew how to disappear. She left very few tracks, even fewer signs of temporary campsites. The fact that she was cloaked in nothingness had only added to the challenge.

It had been worth it, though.

=o=

" _Or should I call you Wraith-san?"_

Her lips narrowed into a thin line as the smug words spun in her head.

Wraiths were Wraiths because they were unknown. Like their namesake they straddled the boundary between reality and myth, existence and non-existence. Like their namesake Wraiths "haunted" Mereta jealously, bound by oath and fueled by patriotism, hunting down those that disturbed the peace of their home…no matter where those enemies thought they could hide.

So how the hell did Killua know about the Wraiths?

Better yet, how the _hell_ had he known that she had Trained as one? No, she wasn't an official Wraith yet…initiation rites and vows were reserved for those that had reached adulthood. What had given her away though? The cord?

No, that didn't make any sense. For the meanings behind the colored cords that _tamga_ hung on were a jealously guarded secret…especially the meaning, the _promise,_ the _oath_ of the black cord.

So then what had given her away?

=o=

Several hours had passed since Killua had returned her _tamga_ —several hours of _hard_ trekking, over sheer rocks, past cliffs, and every other demanding physical obstacle she had found on this island—and yet a presence still doggedly pursued her. Showed no signs of tiring and made no attempts to hide its presence.

She stopped and turned towards the presence. "By the Spirits, how bored are you?"

The reply rained down from above. "Pretty bored." The silver-haired assassin shrugged from his perch on a tree.

"Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Ehh, not really. I can't find Gon anywhere, there's no Rioleo around to make fun of, so…"

She frowned at the foreign name, then connected the dots. "You mean Leorio?"

"Oh, was that the name of the tall one?"

"…You're really bad with names, aren't you?"

"Nah, not really. Some people's names aren't worth remembering."

_So I guess mine's not worth remembering. Little shit._

"Hey! Asterra's on a completely different level than Leorio!" Kikiri chirped.

The Resca scratched the Dokujo's ears in thanks to his comment, then looked up at the boy in the trees. "How long are you going to follow me?"

"Until I get bored. But don't worry; you have interesting reactions so I'm not going to ditch you anytime soon."

Never mind the fact that she _wanted_ him to ditch her and leave her in peace. She stretched her neck then turned to keep on walking. Before she completed a step, though, she returned to her former position. "You know what? Follow me all you want, under one condition: walk next to me."

Killua cocked his head. "Why?"

 _Because you should keep your friends close and your enemies closer._ Killua knew more about her than she liked; it was about time she started repaying the favor. But no need to let the pint-size know that. So she replied, "Because you stalking me is getting old. Pull as much shit as you want where I can see you."

The assassin blinked, then there was a slight rustle of leaves and Killua was in the air. He landed too quietly—a testament to his training—but when he looked up at her with a wide grin and his eyes shone with a playful light. "I'll make you eat those words."

She gave him a sour look. "You need another hobby."

"Hey, its not my fault we're on an island with no JoyStation or PlayCube or even candy."

"What are those?"

"What, candy?"

"I know what candy is, you idiot. The other things you said. Joy…?"

"JoyStation and PlayCube? They're video game consoles."

"Video game consoles?" Asterra said the words slowly, mulling over the syllables as if they were foreign words. "What's a video game?"

"…You're kidding me, right?"

"It sounds like an electronic. We don't have much electricity back home. Certainly not enough to waste on what sounds like a luxury."

"Video games aren't a luxury!"

"I haven't died from not using them, so they can't be a necessity."

"You're not joking." Killua gaped. "Holy crap, where are you _from_?"

"The Sanaar Republic."

Killua paused, and his eyes took on sorrowful light.

"Why are you looking at me like you're pitying me?" Asterra asked warily.

"Well, it's just that…" he paused, then started again. "You're a country bumpkin, aren't you?"

"Country bu—" she sputtered.

"I bet this is your first time out of Sanaar. You must feel so lost~"

"This isn't my first time in another country."

"The airports you used to get to the Hunter Exam don't count."

There was a snicker near Asterra's ear, and she felt Kikiri shaking with suppressed laughter against her neck.

 _You little—_ Fire flared in her gut and she glared down at him. "All right, that's it. List all the places you've been. I bet I can match them, one for one."

Killua grinned. "You're on, Goldfish!"

=o=o=o=

"Zen Ji Ming, Kakin," Asterra said as she ducked under a low branch.

"Kukuroo Mountain, Padokia." Killua replied.

"Sahenni, Begerosse Union."

"Heavens Arena," Killua said.

"Are you two still going at it?" Kikiri groaned. "It's been two hours."

Asterra, on the other hand, had glittering eyes full of curiosity. "Wait, seriously? Isn't that the place where all the prize fighters go?"

"Yep. Dad sent me there for training." He had a dreamy look in his eyes. "Do you know how much candy I got from the prize money?"

She raised an eyebrow. "More than what was healthy for your teeth, no doubt."

Killua grinned, showing rows of even, white teeth. "Hey, as long as you brush them it's fine."

"If you say so," she shrugged, then gestured at the roots in front of her—one of many hidey-holes she had established for herself on the island. "Well, here it is. Home sweet home. Well, one of them."

The assassin leaned in, his eyes narrowed in focus. "Looks empty."

"It better be," the Resca grumbled, hand on hilt. "I'm ready to hit the sack."

The two cleared out the small cave, and Asterra replaced the roots back in front of the cave to obscure the entrance. "First watch – you or me?"

"I can take all the watches."

She blinked at him. "When are you going to sleep?"

"I can go two or three days without sleeping. Got a good snooze in last night so I should be fine."

She stared at him, mouth agape, then shook her head. _How can you train someone to not sleep?_ "If you say so. Have fun."

She took out her blanket and curled up into a ball.

A little while later, Killua called out, "Goldfish, you still awake?"

A muffled grumble. "Now I am, thanks to you. What's wrong?"

"I'm bored."

 _For crying out loud…_ "Deal with it. I'm going to sleep."

After a few moments' pause, he spoke once more. "Is it true the Resca eat each other during Training?"

She shot up, a horrified look on her face. "What kind of question is that?!"

"Well, it's just that my Dad—"

"We don't eat each other. Period."

"Even Wraiths?"

Her expression didn't change at his jibe. "If they're Resca, they won't. Anybody who eats a person will take in their soul as well. The devoured soul's spite will poison the cannibal and the cannibal will lose their mind."

"That's old-fashioned."

"That's what the _regram_ —shaman says. But I'm guessing that it has to do with preventing the spread of diseases that can happen when people eat each other." She yawned.

"Wait, what?"

"Mom once did fieldwork in a village that would eat the brains of the dead. The village had an unprecedented rate of a disease that affected the nerves. The villagers that ate the diseased corpses' brains would also contract the disease."

Killua's eyes were as wide as dinnerplates, brimming with curiosity.

"The village has stopped eating the dead since then, and nobody gets sick from that nerve disease anymore." Another yawn and she blinked sleepily. "All right, story time's over. I'm going to bed."

"But—"

Kikiri crawled out from underneath the blankets and came up to Killua. "I'd let her sleep if I were you. Crabby Asterra is not a force to mess with."

"Aww," he pouted, then leaned against the cave wall. And as he counted the number of white dots created by the moonlight that filtered through the curtain of roots, he found himself secretly looking forward to tomorrow. Looking forward to the new places in the world he would learn about from Goldfish and the possibility of seeing Gon at the finish line.

* * *

**Thanks for reading the chapter to the end! I appreciate all the love given to Lattices in the form of follows, favorites, and reviews. It never ceases to amaze me that people are still reading this (from the follow/favorite notifications I receive in my inbox).**

**Also - a digital cookie for the individual who knows what the disease mentioned above is called ;)**

**Keep reading and dreaming,**

**Rhyss.**


	30. Spiraling

**Note: this chapter was re-uploaded on 4/10/19 with some edits. Nothing that changes the story, just fixed some things; I had Bodoro's application number wrong and forgot to include Hisoka, of all people, in the part where Netero looks over his interview notes. Whoops. Shout-out to LittleAngel2292 for catching that.**

**Now, on with the story!**

* * *

_Cold. Everything is cold—rain-plastered clothes, drenched hair, chilled skin. The spear is becoming harder to grip._

_She looks down at her hand but feels no alarm that it is…different. Darker skinned, with the size and sturdiness she associates with a man's hand. What she doesn't associate with a typical man's hand are the red crystals that cover it, brightly colored points at the nexuses of scars that run up and down her—his?—arms and legs. And, if she is not mistaken, her—his?—shoulder blades and right hip._

_The animals screech above in warning, and the field of vision snaps towards the sounds. There are other men afoot, crunching through the forest with little tact or respect for Her. The men who wear too much cloth for this weather and carry sticks that spray fire and roar thunderously. The sticks that only had to point at people in order to kill. And kill these men did. Set fire to homes, murdered everyone he grew up with, everyone he is supposed to share this lifetime with. Razed the trees, killed the animals and left them to rot instead of eating them._

_Blood curtains his vision and fire thrills through his arms. The paint on his face crackles as his features contort into a snarl. The Mother was merciful, but there was to be no mercy for those who killed and robbed as much as these people did without explanation, without paying their respects to Her land._

_If they would not pay their respects through offering and prayer, then they would pay it through blood and screams._

=o=o=o=

Day 7, Morning

Ghosts of fire were still thrilling through her veins when she woke up—leftovers from last night's dream, perhaps—making her left arm feel unusually warm, different from the warmth she associated with Kikiri being curled up against her. As her mind brushed aside the last cobwebs of sleepiness her senses started to register stimuli again: the cool air of early morning, the rough cawing calls of the island birds, the smell of damp earth amongst the roots in which she took refuge.

"Morning," Killua greeted. He had not moved from his position at the mouth of the cave since last night, and she was not sure if that was impressive or unnerving.

She blinked for a couple moments then rose and stretched, replying with a simple grunt.

The Dokujo crept out from under the blanket. "You won't get too much out of her until she's had breakfast," Kikiri yawned as he stretched out his spine with a _pop pop pop._ "There's a stream not too far from here that has fish in it."

Asterra then started to stretch every muscle out from her neck to her toes, a morning ritual that was the product of her preferences rather than Training. It helped her wake up and come to terms with the fact that time for sleep was over. The feeling of limberness it bestowed her body was an added bonus.

After stretching came packing, which was simple considering the only thing she had taken out was the large blanket. She shook the dirt out of the cloth and proceeded to fold. Smaller and smaller the blanket became, folds of cloth packed into a smaller and smaller size.

She saw Killua approach her from the corner of her eye as she opened her backpack to put the blanket away. "What?" she asked without looking up.

"How do you fit so much stuff into your bag?" the assassin asked.

She turned towards him and fluttered her fingers in front of her face. "Magic."

Killua stared at her. "…Is that supposed to be a joke, Goldfish?"

"Give her a little leeway. She doesn't have much of a sense of humor to start with," Kikiri chirped.

"Whose side are you on?" she snapped at the Dokujo, who just chuckled, not at all swayed by her glare. The Resca then closed up the backpack. "To answer your question, practice. Lots and lots of practice. And how do you not travel without one?"

Killua fluttered his fingers in front of his face, mimicking what Asterra had done moments ago. "Magic."

"…Your sense of humor must be lacking as well if you're copying my jokes," she remarked dryly as she put on her sword belt.

"There's a difference between making fun of something and copying something," the boy remarked with a mischievous smile. "But I wouldn't expect a Goldfish to know the difference."

She pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger as Kikiri chortled with laughter in the background. _Spirits, please let me be rid of this little shit soon._

=o=o=o=

One changing of bandages (the wound looked angrier than yesterday, which was disconcerting) and one meal of fish later, the two were making their way to the finish line of the phase. The plan was to wait somewhere nearby until noon came, and then make their way over to the finish line without any hurry.

That was the plan, at least. But for some reason, they were taking a more strenuous route than necessary, climbing onto cliffs that they didn't need to. She did not remember how it had happened, but was sure it was due to another one of Killua's taunts. Why had she decided to travel with him again?

"Still tired from yesterday?" Killua grinned from the ledge above her.

The Resca reached for a foothold to steady herself, then pushed up with her legs. "Do I look like a mountain goat to you?"

"Eh, you'd be more of a bear than anything with the amount of grace you have."

She reached for another handhold with her right. "Heh, fine by me. I can rip—"

The retort was cut off by a gasp as fire and pain shot through her limb from shoulder to fingertip. Callused fingers spasmed and by the time she even thought about recovering, the rock face was out of her grasp. Rescan tumbled out of her mouth, the sounds very different from Basic but the tone revealing the general sentiment of _oh shit._ The ground was rather far from where she was, and she was not feeling optimistic about falling into foliage.

Kikiri shrieked her name from the ledge above, panic in his eyes, and his body began to elongate. Not nearly fast enough to catch her though.

The flash of white and blue in her peripherals, though, was a different story. The blur of colors was reaching toward her, and from that blur came a hand—a small, pale hand of a child who grasped her wrist with a strong, un-childlike grip. Then she was rising, the white of the cliff face becoming the sky, until—

Her back slammed into the ground, hard, and elicited a pained grunt from her lungs. For a moment she stayed there, shaking, her right wrist caught in a vice grip. Saw the sky circle and felt her heart hammer in her chest in the after-throes of an adrenaline rush.

Kikiri's face was the first to poke into her field of vision. "Asterra?!"

The pressure on her wrist alleviated and in the next moment, Killua's white-haired head appeared. "Are you okay, Goldfish?"

She closed her eyes, waiting for her head to stop spinning.

When Asterra didn't respond, the assassin continued, "Your arm…what happened to it?"

She raised her good arm in the universal "Give me a moment" sign. When the dizziness subsided, the Resca then used her right arm to rise up to a sitting position. It was more difficult than she anticipated to resist the urge to cradle her injured arm.

"Stabbed in the bicep three days ago," she replied curtly. "And yes, I've performed first aid. I just haven't had the chance to get the blood out of my sweatshirt yet."

"Did you get hit in the ligaments or something?"

"I don't think so. I can still hold things."

"You mean kind of," Killua added. "You didn't do a good job of holding on back there."

"Astute observation," she replied dryly.

"Asterra—" Kikiri started, his brows furrowed. Asterra knew what he was going to say from the tone of his voice and shot him a glance that simply said _not now._ The Dokujo reluctantly stopped his words.

"Are you going to make it to the finish line?" Killua's blue eyes betrayed no emotions as he asked the simple, objective question. No pity, no concern of any sort. Good. She preferred it when others did not coddle her at times like these.

For a fleeting moment she felt grateful that it was Killua that was here at the moment and not one of the other three.

She took a deep breath, exhaled, then stood up, brushing her legs off as Kikiri scrambled onto her shoulders. "I'll survive." And then she followed up with a phrase that she never expected to say to Killua. "Thanks for the catch."

The boy shrugged. "What can I say? You're more entertaining when you're not a bloodstain on the ground."

A bark of laughter. "Astute observation," she repeated, this time with a softer tone and small smile.

=o=o=o=

Day 7, Noon

Despite the occasional bouts of dizziness that plagued her after the near-death experience, her sense of direction remained steadfast.

By noon Asterra and Killua were sitting amongst other applicants, waiting for the boat that had carried them all to Zevil Island to arrive. Said vessel was currently lazily making its way toward the island, becoming larger by the minute.

The Resca felt like her head was on a swivel, taking in the applicants around her, muscles ready to bolt to cover at a moment's notice. There were six other applicants, excluding herself and Killua. Hisoka was at her three o'clock, sitting quietly with a half-smile on his face. Mouse sat on a boulder at her twelve o'clock—he had given her a wave when they had met eyes. And there was a man with thin features at her seven o'clock. He would have been the subject of a more casual analysis…if it were not for the fact his facial piercings suspiciously familiar to the needle that had killed the sniper.

Other applicants present included a bald, well-built man dressed like a Japponese shinobi; a youth about her height dressed in the loose clothes of a hunter, bow and quiver slung across his back; and an older man in his fifties who gave off the calm aura of a practiced martial artist.

None of them looked like they were waiting for an opportunity to pounce on an unlucky applicant—no shifting eyes, defensive postures. On top of that, Killua had added these individuals were "pros" who most likely already had their tags. How the boy knew that she did not know, but the observation had aligned with hers…so here she was now.

The boat finally docked, throwing a narrow boarding ramp onto shore. The red-haired woman from before held a clipboard and walked onto land. "We will now be checking the tags of everyone here in the order of their arrival!"

The woman began to chirp out applicant numbers and in response, each applicant raised their tags. Some had two, others had four.

"So, eight applicants so far," the woman mused as she scribbled on her clipboard.

Killua was looking up every once in a while, scanning the trees and then looking back down again. Looking for something, no doubt, but what?

 _Nervousness?_ She frowned. That didn't make sense, didn't fit the picture of Killua she had. What was he so nervous about?

There was a rustle of foliage from behind them and then Gon, Kurapika and Leorio came out of the trees just in time before the time was up. With their entrance Killua's shoulders relaxed. Imperceptible to untrained eyes, but hers were far from untrained. _Hmm…interesting._

"Looks like we have three more applicants, just in time," the woman observed.

"Gon," Killua greeted as the trio approached the boat and gave him a thumbs-up.

"Killua," the dark-haired boy nodded, then glanced towards Hisoka for a moment. Asterra followed his gaze towards Hisoka, then returned to the other two applicants with Gon. Kurapika met eyes with her then proceeded to ignore her. Fair enough. Leorio, who was considerably more bandaged than when she last saw him, gave her a weary wave. She nodded in response.

"So, it looks like a total of eleven applicants have passed the Fourth Phase of the exam!" she announced. "Applicants, please board the vessel! Our next stop will be the location of the final exam phase!"

=o=o=o=

Day 7, Afternoon

The blimp felt cold. Maybe it was the shock of air-conditioning against her skin after being in tropical weather for so long, but she could feel chills throughout her body. She leaned against a wall, closing her eyes to fight another bout of dizziness. Gon spoke animatedly to Killua of what the trio had been through in the final hours of the exam—being stuck in a cave of snakes, using a sleep-inducing gas from Ponzu's arsenal to escape, and Gon holding his breath for a preternatural length of time—but the voices seemed distant. The general impressions she managed to gather were that Leorio had been helped tremendously by Gon and Kurapika in the process of getting his designated target's badge.

She felt tapping on her elbow and jerked towards the stimulus. At the end of her gaze was Gon—Killua was gone—who had a concerned look in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "You're really quiet. Well, more than usual."

"I'm fine." She stopped leaning against the wall and started walking. "Just tired. I'm going to go get food."

As she turned the corner, Gon stared after her. "Something doesn't feel right."

"She's being her usual charming self," Kurapika noted drily. "Seems normal enough to me."

Leorio glanced in Asterra's direction for a moment, then turned towards Gon and Kurapika. "This sounds pathetic, but you guys helped out a lot back there." The words were hesitant, reluctant. Like pulling teeth. "For all it's worth…thanks."

Kurapika and Gon simply smiled.

At that moment an announcement came on board. "Applicants, I have an announcement to make. The chairman wishes to interview the remaining candidates."

"Interview?" Leorio echoed.

"When your number is called, please come to the first reception room on the second floor. First, #44, Mr. Hisoka—please make your way to the reception room."

=o=o=o=

Asterra was grabbing a plate of food when the announcement about interviews came on board. She found herself silently praying that her name would not be called until she had eaten her fill.

As she sat down with a plateful of food, a glass of water was set in front of her. "Nice job getting this far."

Asterra looked up. "Menchi," she replied, surprise coloring her voice. "Isn't it bad for an Examiner to be interacting with applicants in broad daylight?"

"I'm not the one judging the next phase. It's whatever," she shrugged, sitting down with a mug of her own. "What happened to you though?"

"A fight." Asterra took a bite of meat—Spirits, this well-marinated meat tasted _divine_ —and rolled her shoulder. "It'll heal in a couple days though."

Menchi raised her eyebrow. "If you say so."

From there the two talked about what else had happened on the island, and then the conversation drifted to food again. By the time Asterra's name had been called, the conversation had turned to the intricacies of what herbs to use when marinate certain types of meats. "That's me." The Resca picked up her dishes to take to dish return. "Best get going."

"Good luck," Menchi waved back.

=o=o=o=

When she entered the first reception room on the second floor, Killua was walking out of it. "Hey," the silver-haired boy greeted.

"Hey," Asterra nodded back. "How was it?"

"Some old geezer asking questions. Wasn't too bad."

"Such as?"

"Well, he asked me about why I wanted to become a Hunter, who I've got my eye on. Who I don't want to fight."

"Simple enough. Hopefully he doesn't change questions based on the applicant." She raised her hand to knock on the door.

"Hey, have you seen Gon?"

She paused her hand. "Last I saw him, he was with Kurapika and Leorio near the observation windows, port side. Was about an hour ago."

"Hmm, okay. I'll see if he's still there. See ya around, Goldfish."

"Do I have a choice in the matter?" she deadpanned.

"Nope!" he beamed, then walked off.

After the boy turned the corner, Kikiri remarked, "He's not so bad."

She raised an eyebrow at the Dokujo's comment. "He's an assassin, remember?"

"And you're a soldier." He put an emphasis on "soldier," and she knew what he meant instead—Wraith. Far from "normal." "If it works, does it matter?"

Asterra's eyes flitted towards the floor for a moment before she knocked on the door in front of her.

"Come in, come in!" the voice on the other side was jovial, and she opened the door to a medium-sized room with cream-colored walls and a floor covered by straw mats— _tatami,_ a voice in her head corrected. An elderly man sat on the floor, and she recognized him as Chairman Netero, the madman from the third exam phase who had jumped off the blimp without a parachute and survived. In front of him was a coffee table with a piece of paper and calligraphy ink-and-brush set on it. On the wall behind him was a large symbol that looked like something from Jappon or Kakin's character system. Most likely Jappon, from the décor; the traditional Kakinese rooms she had been in as a child had not looked like this.

"Please, take a seat." Netero gestured at the dark blue cushion on the floor, presumably a twin to the one he was sitting on. Cultural analysis done, she took one last glance around the room and took in the practical details—heavy looking kettle-like object and drawers in the corner, the sliding doors that most likely lead to cabinet space where enemies could hide, a piece of pottery and a flower vase, the lack of windows, and the door behind her that was the only guaranteed exit from this room. Fighting her way out of here could be challenging, especially since this Netero had superhuman strength and durability. Perhaps she could throw the table up and dash for the door while he was distracted.

"Do not worry; you have nothing to fear here." The elderly man's voice was warm, and his brown eyes had a grandfather's kindness in them.

"Should I take my shoes off?" Asterra asked. Kakin and Jappon supposedly had some similar cultural values, and she had always had to take off her shoes when entering households in Kakin.

"No need," the man smiled. "But thank you for asking."

She nodded and sat cross-legged on the cushion. Kikiri settled in her lap and purred as Asterra ran her hands across his back.

"Is that a Dokujo?" Netero asked.

Asterra nodded, surprised at his knowledge.

"My family used to have one when I was a boy; she was such a rascal. Kept stealing the neighbor's berries and chewing on my shoes." He turned his gaze to the furball in Asterra's lap, his eyes softening with reminiscence. "What's your name, little one?"

The red-brown head poked up, barely peeking over the table. "Kikiri."

"Nice to meet you, Kikiri. And may I have your full name, miss? Just to make sure I'm interviewing who I think I am."

She paused for a moment, hesitant to give up her surname, but she capitulated. She had used her full name to register for the Exam; there was no use withholding the information to the Chairman of the Hunter Association. "Asterra Yun Resca."

"Ah, good. I am talking to the right applicant." He picked up the brush and notepad. "In case you're wondering, this isn't the final exam phase. I will be asking questions related to it to satisfy my curiosity."

The Resca nodded.

"First—why do you want to become a Hunter?"

The reply was easy. "To obtain access to any and all kinds of information."

"A keen, eager mind, I see." The old man's wrist glided across the paper as he made notes. Asterra expected him to ask a follow-up question on what kinds of information she wanted to obtain, but Netero instead moved on. "Next question—out of the other ten applicants, who are you most keeping an eye on?"

She blinked at the question. After taking several moments to think, she replied, "#44 the most. #99 and #301—the one with yellow studs all over his face—are close seconds."

"Very well. Next question—which one of the other eight applicants would you least want to fight?"

"Same answer as before—#44. #99 ad #301 are close seconds."

"Hmm, okay. Now, last question, and this is for Kikiri."

The Dokujo poked his head above and peeked at Netero again. "Yes?"

"May I stroke you?"

Asterra blinked for a moment, dumbstruck.

"It's been so long sine I've seen a Dokujo, and you remind me a lot of Mikkuru."

Kikiri stood up in her lap and cocked his head. He then ran underneath the coffee table and climbed onto the elderly man's shoulders. The Dokujo rubbed his face against the old man, eliciting a delighted chuckle from him, and received a few scratches along his neck in return.

Asterra observed the interaction with interest. It was said animals had a keen sense for those with a good heart, and she believed Kikiri to be no exception. This Netero couldn't be so bad if the Dokujo liked him.

"Ahh, bless you. Bless you, Kikiri." Netero smiled. "You take care of Asterra, now—and don't annoy her too much."

The Dokujo stood on his hind legs proudly and puffed his chest out. "Of course! No need to tell me twice."

"That's the spirit. Well, that's all the questions I had for you—you're free to go. And there is a medical professional on board if you require their services."

 _Do I look that bad?_ Asterra nodded and stood up as Kikiri clambered up her arm to his usual spot on her shoulders. She then bowed slightly and left the room.

"Maybe I should clean up," she muttered, looking down at her left shoulder. Asterra had not wanted to mend or wash her sweatshirt during the Fourth Phase to avoid putting herself in a vulnerable state more than necessary. But the phase was over, and she was in a place that had hot water and soap. If there was an appropriate time to beat the blood out of her sweatshirt, the time was now. She could mend the tears in the outerwear afterwards as well.

"It wouldn't hurt," Kikiri deadpanned. "You look like you walked out of a zombie movie."

"I feel like I did," she muttered under her breath so only Kikiri could hear. She could hear footsteps coming closer, although no malice registered in her mind. As she turned the corner, she spotted a tall figure walking towards her.

"Oh, hey." Leorio took one hand out of his pockets and waved. "Congrats on making it this far."

His tone sounded sincere enough, but Asterra saw his dark eyes flick towards her left shoulder that was stained with old blood. Old memories flashed across her mind, dragging up instincts to the surface; she found herself straightening her posture and narrowing her eyes, keeping her tone cool and professional. "Same to you. Looks like you bled enough for it."

The youth looked down at his bandaged chest. "More like poisoned than bled. But yeah, you could say that."

The conversation went silent then. Leorio looked like he wanted to say something but could not bring himself to form the words, and Asterra was not particularly good at small talk that could have filled the silence. So she simply added, "Good luck in the future phases."

Leorio jolted a bit in place. "Uhhh, yeah. Right back at you."

She walked past him and turned the next corner. The restroom was only a couple steps away from there, and as she opened the door Kikiri remarked, "What was that?"

The Resca shrugged. "If it's that important he'll tell me later."

When she reached the restroom that was actually a locker room with a shower room, it was blissfully empty. Then again, there were not many women on the ship—she was the only female applicant left at this point, Menchi the only female examiner that she knew of, and aside from the redhaired women on the boat she was not sure what other women could be on this ship.

Asterra turned on the tap and took her sweatshirt off as the sink filled with hot water. After dunking the cloth in water to wet it, she took some soap from the dispenser and started to rub it into the bloodstain. The Resca found herself struggling to put strength into her left arm without it pulsing in pain, beating with a steady rhythm as if it had a heart of its own.

After several more rounds of rubbing soap into the stain and rinsing, the bloodstain had gone from crusty brown-red to a fainter shade. She took the wet sweatshirt and ducked into a shower stall to change the dressings, closing the curtain behind her and throwing the wet sweatshirt over the rod the curtain hung from.

The wounds were angry and red, like this morning. Unlike this morning, the fluid that the wound wept was cloudier. When hot water turned out to be too painful to wash the gashes, she used lukewarm water to wash out the area, reapplying antiseptic cream and the Resca ointment before rebandaging the area.

She prayed to the Spirits that it had not become infected all the while.

=o=o=o=

Netero looked over his notes from all the interviews.

_#44, Hisoka: Keeping an eye on #99, #405 a close second. Doesn't want to fight #405._

_#53, Pokkle: Paying attention to #404 and #406 because they seem like well-balanced applicants. Doesn't want to fight #44, doubts he can beat him._

_#99, Killua Zoldyck: Keeping an eye on #405 because same age and #406 because she's "interesting." Doesn't want to fight #53 because it wouldn't be interesting._

_#406, Asterra Yun Resca: Keeping an eye on #44, #99, #301. Doesn't want to fight aforementioned three._

_#338, Mouse: Keeping an eye on #44 and #301. Doesn't want to fight aforementioned._

_#294, Hanzo: Keeping an eye on #44 because he's the most dangerous one here. Doesn't want to fight aforementioned._

_#191, Bodoro: Keeping an eye on #44, he has a real presence. Doesn't want to fight #99 and #405 because they're still children._

_#301, Gittarackur: Keeping an eye on #99, doesn't want to fight #44._

_#405, Gon Freecs: Keeping an eye on #44, previous history. Doesn't want to fight #99, #403, #404, and #406._

_#404, Kurapika: Keeping an eye on #405 for positive reasons, #44 for negative reasons. Will fight anyone given reason, otherwise prefers not to fight anyone._

_#403, Leorio Paladiknight: Keeping an eye on #405 because he owes him and wishes him to pass. Doesn't want to fight #405._

The results were more lopsided than Netero expected. A few brush strokes and some crumpled up pieces of paper later, he set down his brush with satisfied smile. "Done."

=o=o=o=

Phase Five, Day 1

It had taken every ounce of her will to go get breakfast and make it back to the room that she was now treating as her home base while on this ship. She remembered the last time she had been in one of these rooms—how cramped it had been in before the third phase of the exam. Now she had the entire room to herself. Come to think of it, the pool of applicants had been trimmed down enough that it was likely each applicant could have a room to themselves if they wanted to—a testament to how far she had come.

She supposed she should have been happy. Proud, even. But there was a more pressing issue currently.

Why the fuck was it so _cold_ on this damn airship?

The Resca pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders. She was cocooned up in the blanket, clean and mended sweatshirt zipped up all the way and the hood over her head. A mug that used to be filled with hot tea lay by her side, drained of its contents. Asterra had thought the warm liquid would help the shivering stop, but no. She still felt like shit.

"Asterra, you need to see that doctor." Kikiri's voice was uncharacteristically serious and left no room for argument.

"I'm not seeing a foreign doctor." Asterra's tone was equally serious and left no room for argument.

"You've been getting worse for a couple days now. You're not going to survive the trip to Mereta at this rate."

Asterra rolled onto her side away from him, which made her look like a caterpillar in its chrysalis. "Menchi said this was the last phase. I just have to get through this, then last another two and a half days."

The Dokujo harrumphed. "Yeah, at the very least. And the road home isn't exactly a walk in the park."

Asterra was from the village of Nisk in Mereta, a province of the Sanaar Republic. Or to be more accurate, her maternal family all lived in Nisk so she considered it home. The settlement was in a remote location, a good two days' ride on horseback from the Sanaar Republic's only airport, located in its capital city. And depending on what country she would be leaving from, it could take anywhere from a couple hours to a couple days to reach the Sanaar Republic by airship.

So yes, the odds were not in her favor.

"Don't care. I'm not seeing a foreign doctor." She muttered, curling up in the fetal position. "It all begins with the ones in white, the ones that claim to heal. I'm not ready yet."

Kikiri walked over and peered into her face. "You've been saying that since this morning. What's going to begin? And what aren't you ready for?"

Before she could respond, there was a knock on the door. Instinct commanded her to grab her sword, get ready for a fight. Instead, Asterra found herself sluggishly grabbing for her sword only to miss the sheath.

The door opened, and Kikiri turned towards it, hackles raised. Asterra finally managed to grab the weapon and bring herself into a crouch.

"Hey, you in here Asterra?"

=o=o=o=

Several minutes before

He stood outside the door, more nervous (at what point was it downright fear?) than he had been on his first date with a girl back home.

Except this was not a date, and this was not the girl's home.

No, he was standing in front of the sleeping room he had seen Asterra duck into. And the person inside was more feral bearcat than human, which explained the nerves.

_Come on, man up. Just knock on the door. You know why you're here, now act on it._

He ran a hand through his hair. Yes, he knew why he was here—he was worried. Worried because she had looked paler than when he had last seen her. Worried because that had been a hell of a lot of old blood he had seen yesterday on Asterra's sweatshirt, spreading from the shoulder towards her chest and down her sleeve. Worried because he had just seen one of the toughest humans he had ever met crash against the wall and deliriously stumble the last few yards towards this room. She had then proceeded to shut herself in it in a manner akin to a desperate, injured alley cat running for cover under a dumpster.

He gripped the handle of his suitcase. How was he supposed to help her? If whatever she had was serious enough to make her delirious, would anything he had with him actually help her?

Did that mean he shouldn't even try?

_Come on, come on. You chickened out yesterday. Are you going to do the same again today?_

He took a deep breath and steeled himself, then knocked on the door. When there was no answer, he cautiously opened the door and peeked into the room.

"Hey, you in here Asterra?"


	31. Ethics x Pride

**I'm back with some more!**

* * *

Her mind registered the characteristics of the voice that reached her ears—older, but not old, male. In the next moment a gangly youth was in the doorway and had took half a step in before his eyes widened. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" He threw his hands out in front of him in a half- panic. "It's just me! Leorio!"

She wondered why his reaction seemed so alarmed, then took stock of the current situation. Nest of blankets around her feet that she had failed to kick away—stupid, stupid, she could have tripped over that, she should fix that—and her body in a crouch and ready to launch. A quarter of her blade exposed. Kikiri fluffed up and snarling next to her.

Upon realizing that her body language screamed hostility, Leorio's reaction made much more sense.

She straightened and sheathed the blade with a clean _shick_ as Kikiri returned to normal size beside her. "It's you."

"Yeah, it's me. Hi." Leorio's shoulders relaxed slightly.

"Hello," Kikiri chirped.

Asterra's tone was neutral. "Figured out what you want to say to me?"

He seemed taken aback by the comment. "Huh?"

"Yesterday, near the interview room. You wanted to say something, but looked like cat got your tongue."

"Oh. That. Hmmm…" The youth seemed to be muddling over what to say again and she felt a twinge or annoyance at his hesitation. But then he threw his hands up in the air as if he had given up and made a frustrated noise before starting once more. "Look, I just wanted to check up on you. See if you were okay. You're looking really pale, that was a lot of blood on you yesterday, and you were stumbling when you left breakfast. Just now, too."

Synapses fired in a warning signal at his words. "Were you following me?" Her voice darkened.

His shoulders rose into a shrug, following his hands, into a gesture of protest. "Is a guy not allowed to be concerned about a person he's been travelling with?"

"You followed me into a room where I'm alone, knowing I was weakened." Her hand clasped around the hilt of her sword. "Am I not allowed to be concerned about that?"

Silence permeated the air as Leorio connected the dots. When he responded, his brows were furrowed in confusion. "You think I'm here to hurt you?"

A dry laugh. Spirits, how dense was he? What other reason would a competitor have to show up to a weakened applicant's room? "Try kill. I'm your competition—this would be a great time to get rid of me." Her grip tightened. "They always come for me when I'm weak. They always have. What's to say you're not one of them?"

"Who's 'they'?"

Images flashed in her mind, ephemeral things that she could grasp no better than the smoke from a campfire but knew they spoke of dangers, of hunters from shadows. "The ones that hunt me."

As she spoke the words she realized something—Leorio could very well be one of them, couldn't he? Even if he didn't wear white, he aspired to be one that claimed to heal.

The youth frowned. His eyes seemed to glance downwards—towards Kikiri?—then flicked back up to her again. That was when he lowered his hands and slowly turned his palms toward her. "Asterra, I don't want to hurt you. Or kill you. I just want to help you." Leorio's words were slow, clearly enunciated. As if he wanted to put her at ease.

It only made her stiffen more, make her mouth curl into the smallest of snarls.

=o=

Leorio had a dilemma here. Namely, how did he calm down an individual on the verge of paranoia and convince her that he just wanted to help?

Asterra was careful—kind of like Kurapika in that way. Always thinking ahead, watching, observing, taking everything in while keeping a carefully neutral expression that masked her thoughts to others. Even when they'd been walking through Zevil Island, her head had been on a constant swivel and she seemed to have preternatural senses that picked up on anything and everything—not quite like Gon's, but close. But careful was different from paranoid, and from what he had observed in previous phases Asterra did not seem like the paranoid type. An overthinker, maybe—no, probably. But not paranoid.

Then there was Kikiri, giving him unsure glances. The rodent was always with Asterra, and most likely knew her better than anyone. So if he was looking unsure, then that only cemented Leorio's conclusion that Asterra's thoughts and actions were not typical. So a mild delirium, then? Some sort of mental status change? It was a common sign that something was wrong, but not a sign that specified what exactly was wrong. To do that, he would have to ask questions, get a past medical history, the works. Even if he couldn't provide medical care directly, if he could shorten the assessment process when she did see a doctor, it would help her get treatment more quickly.

So, how did he make her feel at ease? What would make himself seem less like a threat to her? It was ironic, really, considering the fact that he felt Asterra was more of a threat to him than vice versa, but apparently she did not feel the same way.

He glanced at the sword at her hip, then got an idea.

"I'm going to reach into my pocket and take out my penknife. Then I'm going to give it to you. Sound good?"

The teen narrowed her eyes and looked directly at him with an uncomfortable intensity, as if she could read his mind if she focused enough. Hell, maybe she could. He had been told he was an open book numerous times; maybe his skull was transparent too.

 _Please work,_ he thought urgently. _Please let this get the message across._

=o=

Asterra cocked her head at his offer to give up his weapon. An interesting decision that put him at a disadvantage, if he were truly here to eliminate her from the Hunter Exam. She carefully studied his body language for other signs of deceit but could find none—his eye contact was steady, his posture open.

She took the hand off her sword and nodded. "Fine."

Leorio pulled out the penknife and slid it across the floor until it came to a halt in Asterra's pile of blankets. The Resca picked up the weapon and pocketed it. He then held out his arms. "I've got no other weapons on me. I'm unarmed. Can we talk now?"

"Depends on what you want to talk about," she replied, arms crossed.

"How you got injured," Leorio replied.

"Why?"

"I want to see if anything I have in my suitcase can help you."

What did he take her for, an imbecile that didn't know her way around a first aid kit? "I already treated the wound; it's fine." Her arms tightened around her chest. "I'm fine."

"So you're telling me that you look this pale, crash into walls, and need that many blankets"—he gestured at the nest of blankets at her feet—"on a daily basis?"

She bristled at his comment, but before she could retort Kikiri interjected gently. "Asterra, I know how well you patched up your wound. But it wouldn't hurt to get a second opinion."

"And give him information?" She left _about how I've been weakened_ out, but Kikiri knew her well enough to understand despite the omittance.

"If he pulls any funny moves, I'll take care of him," Kikiri reassured. "So please? For me?"

She grumbled—the Dokujo was making doe eyes at her. "You're not going to stop asking until I say yes, are you?"

Kikiri flicked his ears. Leorio then added, "I'll leave once you spill the beans if you want."

She glanced at the youth, then sighed softly. _Spirits, why can't they just leave me be?_ "Fine. But you"—she directed the statement to Leorio—"stay there."

Kikiri beamed at her and nodded at Leorio.

Leorio nodded, taking a couple steps to the left to get away from the doorframe, then sat down and leaned against the wall. "I'm going to take pen and paper out of my briefcase."

"All right," she replied as she sat down in her nest. Her right arm dragged the blankets to cover her shoulders as she pulled her knees closer to her, effectively turning her into a cocoon.

"When were you wounded?" Leorio started.

Asterra furrowed her brow in thought. "Couple days ago. Three."

"Four," Kikiri corrected. "It was three days ago yesterday."

 _Was it?_ Asterra blinked. She could have sworn it was three days ago.

"Where? How?"

"Was fighting applicants for tags. Got hit in the left arm by throwing knives." The Resca took her arms out of the cocoon and pointed to the outside of her left bicep, then to two spots on her triceps, all in a single diagonal line.

Leorio glanced to Kikiri, who nodded.

"Can I see them?"

At the words a shudder lurched through her—that was a bad idea. Even her reptile brain chittered in alarm over it _ **.**_ She shook her head vigorously and clutched her arm. "No. Can't reveal, can't reveal. Or they'll come and take, come and kill."

"Umm…I can describe it for you," Kikiri offered.

Leorio nodded and gestured the Dokujo to do so. And so it continued—a pattern of question, answer, and the soft, scratching sounds of reality being recorded into paper with ink.

She felt like she was in the hospital again after a set of nodules had ruptured into crystals. The battery of questions that dug and dug and dug at what had happened, down to minutiae that even she didn't remember. The quiet insistence that she remember details that she may have not even noticed. What did you eat? Drink? When did you do this and that? Good thing Kikiri was here; there was a fog in her brain that clouded her mind, denied access to her memories.

Asterra observed Leorio from her position as Kikiri answered for her once again. Why was this beanpole of a human even trying to help her? What did he want from this interaction? During Training, nobody had ever even approached her without wanting something in return—food, favors, information, an extra hand for the next mock battle.

So what did Leorio want? What could he want? Food was unlikely; there was a buffet on the ship. Information seemed unlikely as well; Asterra was as much in the dark about the content of the next exam as Leorio was, and her knowledge of the other remaining applicants was limited. A favor then? He had not mentioned anything yet, but was that part of his façade of altruism? If that was the case, she would have to be careful it was not one that put her at a disadvantage.

Nobody helped her for no reason. Well, aside from Gon perhaps, but he was an anomaly and Leorio seemed a little more…street smart than the Whale Island native. Knowing others' intentions and motivations while keeping hers mostly hidden was how she had survived so far. Not knowing made her mind race more, plot more.

Want to dissect this unknown's intentions more.

=o=o=o=

The questions continued for half an hour, then Leorio took another half an hour to write more notes. "Here," he offered the two papers to her. "Take a picture so you have a copy to show to your doctor back home later."

She frowned, despite herself. "I don't have a camera."

"Then use your cellphone…?"

"Haven't got one." _Since when do cellphones have cameras? The ones six years ago didn't._

He gaped at her. "Are you from the Dark Ages or something?"

She looked at him sourly. "Not much electricity where I come from…or cell service, for that matter. The nearest town with a phone is four hours away from where I live."

He shot her a baffled look that asked how she survived without a cellphone. Were they that necessary in the world outside Mereta? She had seen more than enough payphones on her way to the Hunter Exam to suggest otherwise.

Leorio put the papers on the floor, then proceeded to take out a slim, metallic grey object out of his trouser pocket. He positioned the object over the papers, then tapped against the side facing towards the ceiling with his thumb. There was a sound like a camera taking a picture, once, twice. She observed intently. Was that a camera or a cellphone? Either way, apparently technology had advanced light years ahead since the last time she had been outside Mereta; the cameras and phones she remembered were bulkier and had short battery life, which her parents used to moan somewhat regularly about.

Leorio offered the papers to her. "Here. Keep this with you then."

The product turned out to be another two pages of surprisingly legible text. She attempted to read it, but the document was laden with unfamiliar words—medical jargon, maybe. Asterra stowed the papers away in the watertight first aid kit for safekeeping. "So, what's the diagnosis?"

"I'm not a doctor."

"You asked questions like one. You treat others' wounds like one."

"Just used to work at a clinic, that's all. I learned on the job." Leorio stretched out his legs. "Personally, I think it's infected. You need to have a real doctor look at it though. Whatever you've got…I can't take care of it with what I have. I don't have anything stronger than Reosporin and other OTCs in here." He tapped his briefcase.

Asterra quieted at that, burrowing herself deeper into her cocoon as another wave of chills and nausea swept over her. "It all begins with the ones in white, the ones that claim to heal. I'll wait until I get home." This was nothing compared to Training; she had walked out of sparring matches feeling worse. What was a couple more days?

"Here." There was a rustle of cloth and her field of vision was obscured by darkness.

"This smells," Kikiri whined from underneath as Asterra pulled off the material from off of her head. It was Leorio's suit jacket.

"Well shit, that's too bad, isn't it?" he retorted. "But it'll help keep you warm."

Asterra draped the cloth around her shoulders so that the jacket covered the layer of blanket already wrapped around her.

"Are there even any doctors where you live?" Leorio asked. "You said you come from a place with no electricity. But you still have clinics?"

She blinked, considering his question, then set her chin on her knees. "There's doctors. I just have to be closer to home. It'll be safer then; they won't cross the border. They're too scared to." The ones that haunted Mereta would rain retribution down on those that hurt one of their own.

Leorio did not respond. He did not seem eager to speak, but he still had not revealed enough for her to decipher his intentions. So before the silence in the room could settle comfortably, Asterra blurted out a question. "Why are you doing this?"

"Huh?"

"You're not family and you don't know me that well. You have no obligation to help me. If anything, I'm your competition. You could have eliminated me by leaving me to die from my wounds."

His jaw tightened, and his posture visibly stiffened. "Are you for real?"

"Am I for real?" Asterra echoed the words, mulling over them slowly. Was that slang? The combination of words was not familiar to her. "Well, I exist, don't I?"

"Not what I meant. I help because if I did what you just said, I'd fail as a person." Leorio's long fingers curled around the briefcase handle. "I don't need a reason to help people; I help because I want to."

"Even if it could be a potential threat later?"

"Doesn't matter. They're still a person."

"Being a person is enough to make someone valuable to you?"

Leorio paused for a moment. "Well, yeah. A life's a life."

"Animals have lives too," she remarked.

"I'm not saying animals' lives are unimportant; I'm just saying peoples' lives are precious, and worth saving."

"Even if the person you help has nothing to give to you?"

"I told you why I wanted to become a Hunter, didn't I? To get rich, become a doctor, and give medical care to all, even to those who can't afford it." His voice had a tinge of annoyance in it, as if he were telling a child something obvious, and it made irritation of her own flare up. "Why all the questions? Don't you like helping people?"

Ah, that question again. The same question Gon had asked her. The question that apparently revealed more differences between her mentality and non-Resca mentalities than she had previously thought. "I can't help everyone. I don't have enough resources for that," she replied quietly. "So why bother to help when it won't benefit me?"

Leorio raised an eyebrow.

"Everyone has their motives, their agendas. You have yours, I have mine," Asterra continued. "People use each other, under the guise that it's a deal between two equal parties that need each other for some reason. But in the end, each side's still using each other to further their own goals."

Leorio's eyebrow twitched, and his expression tightened. He leaned forward, dark eyes meeting her own steadily. "Are you using us, then?"

The question made Asterra pause. It was a simple question with a simple answer, on the surface. But what was the right answer here? She could be honest, for the sake of discussion. But would doing so damage what had been built so far? Or would it help her probe deeper and find Leorio's motives?

"Okay, that's it for philosophy hour," Kikiri's voice suddenly butted in. "Asterra, you don't—"

"Yes," the girl replied flatly.

"Asterra!" Kikiri hissed.

"There's a saying that runs in my clan—'Alliances are made out of necessity, not charity.'" She met his eyes with a steady gaze of her own. "Don't get me wrong; I'll pull my own weight and I'll hold up any agreements that are made. But I'm not a charity."

The youth harrumphed, then slumped against a box near the door, a darker expression than normal on his face. The air around him had tightened, buzzing with what she could best describe was some cloud of static electricity. Not quite malice, which was why she was not leaping to her feet and unsheathing her sword, but Leorio did not seem to be too receptive to her thought process either.

After a few moments of silence, she ventured another question. "Do you regret helping me?"

"No." The one-word syllable response was quicker than she expected. "Your view on the world could use some work though." He turned away from her. "If you're not going to see a doctor, at least get some rest. We don't know what's coming next."

His body language and tone screamed, "I'm done with this conversation." Although she would have liked to dissect his thoughts some more, the Resca took the hint and stopped her flow of questions. And as she burrowed deeper into her blankets to doze, a question echoed relentlessly in her mind.

_Should I have said that?_

=o=o=o=

**Several hours later**

The sound of the airship touching down jolted Asterra from her nap. Half an hour later the applicants were being escorted off the airship, which had touched down in a large, grassy field near a building with onion-shaped roofs. Specifically, they were led to a large room with stone tiles as flooring—a place that looked fitting as either a place for practicing dancing with large amounts of people or an arena for fighting.

It turned out to be the latter. Good thing she had taken those painkillers from her first aid kit as Leorio had suggested.

"Everyone, were you all able to rest well?" Netero chirped. "If you haven't, don't fret. This hotel is owned by the Hunter Exam Selection Committee. The place is all yours until the battles have concluded, and we won't kick you out if you still require some time to recover."

The entire hotel? This place with a sprawling courtyard, gently bubbling fountains, open rooms, and luxurious carpet that should definitely not have been stepped on with shoes? The Hunter Association must have a fat purse if they were able to give a single committee enough money to rent the entire building.

With a clattering of wheels against stone a board was rolled out by two men dressed in black suits. Black lines ran across the whiteboard in straight lines reminiscent of a tournament bracket—a rather unbalanced looking one, from the way the two largest branches did not have similar numbers of people. One of the men in suits announced, "For our final exam phase, we will be conducting one-on-one matches in a tournament style."

"So only the last person standing passes?" Leorio asked.

Asterra's stomach flipped over itself. Fight everyone, in this state? Spirits…even with the painkillers numbing her left arm, she couldn't strike properly with it.

"No," Netero replied. "You just need one win to pass this phase, because in this tournament, winners are kicked out while the losers continue up the bracket. In other words, the person who finishes at the top will not pass. Does that make sense?"

"So in short, only one person will fail," the bald applicant summarized.

"Exactly," Netero replied as he peeled the tape off the bottom. "And here is the bracket."

At the bottom of the tournament bracket was a series of images—photos of the applicants still remaining, along with their applicant number. She found her picture in the middle of the sprawling left branch of the bracket. And her first opponent was—

—#53, the hunter.

She glanced at him momentarily, making a mental note to observe him more closely later, then returned her gaze to the board. After counting that she had five opportunities to pass the phase, she took in the other match-ups. Gon was in the bottom right corner, up against the shinobi; they both also had five chances to pass. Kurapika was to fight against Hisoka in his first battle—ironic, considering had not fought Hisoka in the swamplands of the first phase. Killua would fight the loser of the battle between her and Pokkle; including that battle, he had four chances to pass. Leorio was situated in a way that gave him two chances to pass.

Netero chuckled, sounding pleased with himself. "Impressive, no? Everyone has at least two chances to win."

"You could say that. But people like #294 and #405 get five chances," the older martial artist—Bodoro—pointed out. "Why wasn't a balanced bracket used?"

"A fair question," Netero replied. "This bracket was assembled based on your performances throughout the entire exam. Those who performed better received more chances."

"Really?" Killua asked. "Can you explain how you scored our performances?"

The assassin had a valid point. While Asterra was thankful for having more chances—why look a gift horse in the mouth, after all—the individuals who had received the most opportunities were unexpected. In addition, the individuals she thought were stronger candidates than her had received less opportunities to pass. Hisoka and Killua had four opportunities, while the opponent with golden studs all over his head had only two chances to pass.

Netero smiled at the question, then started to thrash around with a goofily deranged look on his face while roaring "No!"

Kikiri jolted at the sight, burrowing into her hood. A moment later he peeked out again, peering over her shoulder warily.

"Your scores are classified information; I cannot reveal everything," Netero continued. "That being said, I'll at least explain our methods.

"Our evaluations are based on three broad categories: physical ability, mental acuity, and overall impression. For physical ability, we evaluate agility, flexibility, endurance, and perception. For mental acuity, we evaluate resilience, adaptability, decision-making, and creativity. However, this information is only used as a reference point. After all, you were all capable enough to make it to the final phase of this exam.

"What we are most concerned with is your overall impression—the details that we could not measure based on aforementioned parameters. Consider it an evaluation of your potential as a Hunter. We also incorporated the opinions of your peers into our decision."

Well, that explained the skewed and unexpected results. While the first two criteria of physical ability and mental acuity could be measured more easily, that last criterion was nebulous and arbitrary. Potential was tricky to measure—similar to predicting the future or listening to one's gut feelings. In other words, the applicants' performances were partly at the mercy of subjective opinion rather than objective facts, thus leading to the creation of this unbalanced bracket.

 _I wonder what they see in me,_ she mused silently.

"The battle rules are quite simple: weapons are allowed, no cheating, if your opponent admits defeat, you win. However! If you kill your opponent, you will immediately be disqualified. All remaining applicants will pass, and the exam will end. Are we clear?"

"What if we knock our opponent unconscious?" Asterra asked.

"It will not be considered a victory—we will postpone the battle until the applicant regains consciousness and the battle will continue. One can only be victorious by making their opponent admit defeat."

Shame. Asterra was confident in her ability to incapacitate others, even if the world was swaying at the moment. But what Netero was asking for…it made it sound more like an interrogation of sorts, where they were trying to force individuals to spit out information. That meant psychological tactics would have to come into play—make the person fear her enough to admit defeat.

"Any other questions?"

No response.

"Then, we shall begin the final exam phase." A man in a black suit and shades—supposedly a judge—stepped forward. "First up—Hanzo vs Gon. Please step forward."

Gon and Hanzo stepped up, while the other applicants and examiners moved towards a wall. Asterra crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, attempting to strike a balance between looking casual and maximizing the support she got from the wall.

"My name is Masta, and I will be serving as your referee," the judge announced. "Best of luck to both of you."

"Hey, long time no see," Hanzo greeted. "You were tailing me during the last phase."

The judge seemed surprised. "You noticed."

"Of course. I'm sure everyone else noticed. I'm guessing that each applicant was assigned an examiner for the Fourth Phase."

 _So that's what that was._ Asterra had occasionally felt like somebody was watching her during the last phase; she had just not felt any malice and had been content to leave the presence be. It was creepy, yes, but if the presence had not meant her any harm why go pick a fight? Better to keep energy expenditures down for times she had to fight.

"You have my thanks," the shinobi continued. "My rank was higher because your reports on me were accurate. Not that the outcome was ever in doubt, of course."

 _Slight arrogance? I'll keep that in mind._ She didn't know much about shinobi specifically, but she knew that they were intelligence agents in Jappon—which meant that combat was most likely in their repertoire. Other plausible skills to facilitate spying activities and collecting information would include disguises, sneaking into locations, interrogation…and torture, as required to beat information out of unwilling participants. This Hanzo had an air of experience around him—he was no greenhorn. Perhaps trained since childhood, or teenage years at the latest.

She turned her attention on Gon. He would likely use his speed to find an opening, then go for the strike _._ The lack of combat experience concerned her more—yes, he was creative, and that helped in many situations. But a creative greenhorn versus a more experienced individual who had experience dealing with creative enemies? Gon would need the Spirits' favor to win this one.

Masta stepped back. "We will now commence the battle. Begin!"

Gon leaped forward, stepping into Hanzo's blindspot. But then Hanzo flitted out of sight as well, and within a second was right in front of Gon.

"Uh oh," Kikiri muttered.

"Looks like you have confidence in your legs," Hanzo commented in a monotone voice. "You've done well for a kid, to get this far." There was a blur of black and tan that slammed into the back of Gon's neck with an ugly sound. The boy crashed into the floor, mouth gaping for air and eyes unfocused.

"Gon!" Kikiri yelled from her shoulder.

 _Aaand down. This is going to be a rough one._ Asterra's thoughts did not mirror Kurapika and Leorio's gapes of surprise—after all, it was a logical outcome to the match-up. There was a pang of disappointment though, because the worst was yet to come. Gon was stubborn; a "one-track mind," as they called it. And in this phase, there was no victory unless the opponent admitted defeat. Conclusion: it was going to take Gon a _lot_ of pain form him to say I give up, and there was a part of her that disliked the thought of seeing him in pain.

"Well, this would already be over if it were a normal fight…but it's not. Come on, wakey wakey." Hanzo propped the boy into a sitting position, then dug his knee into the curve of his back. Gon grit his teeth, shaking. "You're probably feeling like crap about now," the shinobi continued. "After all, I hit you hard enough to make your brain bounce around in your skull. You have no chance against me. Give up while your body isn't too broken."

"N-No," the boy forced out, which just earned him another clout around the head from Hanzo that made his skull bounce around in an unnatural way. He coughed, beads of sweat running down his face.

"Think about it. If you surrender now, you'll still be in decent shape for your next fight. You won't benefit from being stubborn. Just surrender."

"NO! NEVER!" he hissed.

Another clout that echoed in the empty room.

Leorio and Kurapika's expressions darkened. Kikiri fluffed up slightly on her shoulder.

While everyone looked to the boy, Asterra looked at Hanzo's eyes—took in the blankness in his dark eyes. She filed away the observation in her mind for later use. _Experience in torture, check._

"Surrender." Hanzo repeated.

Gon attempted to stand up, only to receive a blow to the abdomen.

"Gon, don't be silly!" Leorio suddenly roared. "You still have another—!"

"Leorio!" Kurapka interjected. "If you were in Gon's position, would you surrender?"

"Hell, no!" he replied. "As if I'd surrender to a guy that thinks he's hot stuff."

"Then you know how Gon feels," Kurapika continued.

"I know! I know that! But there isn't any other choice here!"

"You're contradicting yourself immensely, but I understand how you feel." Kurapika winced as Hanzo landed a kick that sent Gon skidding across the floor.

Asterra raised an eyebrow. _Spirits, they're so hot-blooded. Getting angry isn't going to help them in this situation._ She turned back to the boy curled up in a fetal position.

 _Gon, why are you doing this to yourself?_ The boy was groveling on the floor now, struggling to even get on his hands and knees. _There's no shame in a tactical retreat. Maybe it's a blow to pride for you, but people don't die from getting their pride stung. Or twisted and stomped on until it's nothing but dirt and ash, for that matter…_

"Honestly, the chairman's nasty streak is in a class all on its own." Menchi remarked. "The applicants who've made it this far are unlikely to simply surrender."

"True, true," the large man with a rotund stomach in yellow— _Buhara,_ she remembered—replied.

Hanzo raised his hands over his head and brought them down onto the small of Gon's back.

"This goes beyond a 'rather peculiar fight'. This system's just crazy." Menchi shifted her weight. "That kid's in danger."

Asterra bit the inside of her lip at the remark.

=o=o=o=

_This is getting fucking tasteless._

Bodoro had mentioned that Gon most likely had nothing less to vomit; at this rate, the Whale Island native would no longer have anything left to bleed either. Crimson and pale yellow liquid spattered the white stone tiles around Gon, who himself was mottled with bruises and bleeding wounds. Several individuals had turned away from the scene somewhere during the one- to two-hour mark.

"It's been three hours." Pokkle shuddered, eyes averted from the scene. The youth looked ill—not used to this level of violence and suffering, then. Despite herself, she filed the information away for use in her own fight.

Hanzo's voice echoed across the empty room. "Get up."

At the sound, Leorio shook. "Enough already! I'll fucking kill you!" he roared. "I'll fight you in his place!"

Asterra's eyes flitted toward the enraged youth.

"If you can't take it, leave," Hanzo replied, voice cold. "It's only going to get worse from here."

"Why you—!" Leorio lunged forward, but before he could take too many steps two men in black suits blocked Leorio's path.

"No one may interfere in a one-on-one match," Masta stated. "And if you step in, Gon will be the one disqualified."

The reply only resulted in a snarl from Leorio.

"I'm okay." Gon's voice wavered as he stood up slowly. Too slowly. "Leorio…this is nothing. I-I can still…keep going…"

 _Yeah, keep still being a sandbag,_ she thought humorlessly. But then her spine straightened as her mind picked up a change in the air around Hanzo. Within moments Gon's feet was swept from under him, and Hanzo grabbed his arm. "I'm going to break your arm. I'm not joking around. Give up."

"NEVER!" Gon roared like a battle cry, the steel unmistakable in his voice.

_SNAP!_

Eyes still hollow, Asterra's crossed arms tightened slightly against her chest at the sight of Gon clutching his arm and grimacing, his forehead pressed into the ground.

"He really broke his arm…" Pokkle muttered. He looked like he wanted to vomit.

"There—you can't use your left arm anymore." Hanzo stated.

The blackness around Leorio that had been steadily increasing over the hours reached a new peak of malice. She could see veins bulging in his temple, and the youth looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. "Kurapika, don't try to stop me," he threatened. "If that bastard does anything else to Gon…even if it means Gon getting disqualified, I'm not going to be able to hold back…!"

"Me, stop you?" Kurapika's malice was on the rise again, the spike that usually accompanied his eyes turning scarlet. "I can assure you that would not happen."

The shinobi sighed. "I'm sure you're in too much pain to listen but hear me out. I am descended from the shinobi, a clan of covert agents." He tipped his body forward into a one-handed handstand. Well, he certainly must feel ahead of the game if he could afford to do such a thing. "From the day I was born, I was forced to endure harshest training in order to master the art of _ninpo_. For eighteen years I have trained my body and technique, without rest. By the time I was your age, I had already killed a man."

 _Well, Killua's probably killed a lot more than you, but do go on and tell me your secrets._ The shinobi was in her bracket, after all. _Is it customary to do a handstand in front of your enemies as well? Because there are so many ways I could take advantage of that…_

His wrist shifted, and he was doing a handstand on his fingers now. "At this point in time, you cannot defeat me in combat." The fingers curled into a fist, until there were two, then one left. "I won't mock you for it. Just surrend—"

THWACK!

Gon landed a roundhouse kick to the shinobi's face, sending him flying back, then collapsed, grimacing in pain.

The applicants gasped. Asterra merely chuckled darkly, satisfied that Gon had taken the opportunity to land a blow on the shinobi's face while he pulled off such an arrogant stunt.

"That's it, Gon! Kick him while he's down!" Leorio cheered. Kurapika's lips quirked into a small smile.

"My head cleared a bit, after all the pain and that long explanation!" Gon straightened back into standing position. "If you're eighteen, you're only six years older than I am. Besides, this isn't a battle to see who's stronger. It's to see who's willing to surrender first."

Hanzo got up and leaped back, several steps sporting a bloody nose. "I let you kick me on purpose."

"Liar!" Leorio roared.

"You don't get it, do you? This isn't a warning, it's an ultimatum. If it was too difficult to understand, I can make it easier for you." Hanzo touched his right bandaged forearm and produced a blade from it. "I can cut off your legs so that they can't be reattached. A permanent injury should help to wake you up. But first, I'll ask you once last time. Surrender."

"I won't accept that!" Gon's reply was petulant and indignant. "I don't want to have my legs cut off, but I don't want to surrender. So let's find a different way to fight!"

"Hey…do you understand your own situation?!" Hanzo exploded. The other applicants snickered. "Don't just go making demands! Are you trying to insult me?! I'm seriously gonna cut off your legs!"

What was this change in the air? Was it because Hanzo was acting like a hotblooded ruffian than a highly trained covert ops agent?

"I don't care. I won't surrender." There was renewed steel in Gon's voice. "Besides, if you do that I'll bleed to death. He'll be disqualified if that happens, right?"

"Oh, yes," Masta replied.

"See? That plan's not good for either of us. So let's think of a better way."

Hanzo looked like he was going to blow a fuse.

Kurapika seemed to be working hard to suppress laughter. "I think he's okay. Gon's taken control of the situation now."

"He's so self-centered," Leorio muttered.

"But he's succeeded in convincing Hanzo and the rest of us. Honestly."

Hanzo ground his teeth, then thrust his sword. The boy didn't flinch, eve as the point barely stopped in time at the middle of Gon's forehead, drawing blood.

"Don't you get it?" There as frustration, exasperation, and disbelief in his voice. "If you die, you'll never get another chance. Even if I kill you here, I can just try again next year. We are not on equal footing!"

No response.

"Why won't you concede? It's the easy thing to do. You can try again next year. Do you value your pride more than your life? Are you willing to put your life on the line for it?"

"I'm willing to do it so I can find my dad."

Hanzo frowned.

"My dad is a Hunter. But he was never around much—doing Hunter things, I guess. So I'm going to become a Hunter myself and find him! I know I'll find him one day…But I have a feeling that if I give up now, I'll never find him." The boy set his mouth in a grim line. "That's why I won't surrender."

"If you don't yield, you'll die." Hanzo pressed forward.

Gon stared back defiantly, as if daring Hanzo to follow through with his threat.

Silence stretched into what seemed like an eternity, two iron wills clashing. Hanzo was the first to break the silence…by withdrawing his blade back to its hiding place. "You win."

 _What?_ Asterra almost gaped.

"I can't kill you, but I can't think of a way to make you surrender either. I'll take this loss and take my chances in the next battle."

"But that's not fair! We both have to think of a way to settle this fight!"

Asterra facepalmed.

"Heh, I knew you would say that, and you can say it all you want," Hanzo harrumphed. "There's no point, because you'll never surrender."

"But I don't want to win like this!" Gon protested.

"Then what am I supposed to do?" Hanzo shot back.

"We can work together to figure it out!"

Against all odds, what had started off as a brutal scenario had completely devolved into a comedy routine.

"I've already given up on this match, but you want me to try to win again, while helping to determine a way to make you feel good about your victory. Sound about right?"

Gon nodded earnestly.

"Yeah, like hell that'll happen!" Hanzo lashed out one last time—an uppercut that sent the boy flying and landing unconscious on the floor. "Referee, I lose. Let's move on."

Masta nodded. "The victor is Gon!"

As if on cue two of the examiners in black suits pressed forward to the unconscious boy, checking his breathing and pulse.

"Hey, there's one thing that's bugging me," Hanzo mused as Gon was carried away into another room through a large set of doors. "Gon's stubborn—when he wakes up, he'll probably refuse that he passed and decline the License. That would make him the one person to fail the round…so wouldn't that make the rest of our fights meaningless?

"There's nothing to worry about that. As of this point in time, Gon has passed. It does not matter what he says or does. Even if he were to kill me in a fit, we still wouldn't be able to revoke his license."

Hanzo nodded. "Fair enough." The shinobi returned to the side of the room where all the applicants were clustered.

"Why'd you let him win?" Killua asked Hanzo as he reached earshot. "Someone with your training surely knows how to make one surrender without killing him."

Hanzo turned to him, eyebrow raised. "You really want to know?"

Killua nodded.

"When I torture someone, I expect that person to hate me for the rest of their life. It takes the stress off of me, because no matter how much a person has trained or endured in the past, their eyes show hate and rage while being tortured."

Interesting; they taught the same thing in Training too.

"But Gon…his eyes didn't have that gleam. I had beat him for close to three hours, then broken his arm. He had every right to hate me, but his eyes didn't show any of that." Hanzo shook his head in wonderment. "He won me over, plain and simple. There's your reason."

Killua's brows furrowed in thought at the response. Was he displeased, or puzzled? The Resca couldn't tell. What Asterra knew was that she had witnessed a part of Gon's potential—the traits that had lead to the examiners to give him five chances to become a Hunter. That spark of him that drew others to him, whether that relationship be based on curiosity, exasperation, or fascination.

She wondered what the future held in store for him.

* * *

 **I have to say - re-designing that bracket to fit in Asterra and Mouse was an...interesting task, to say the least. The perfectionist in me said I could have done better but the realist told me to stop agonizing and start writing.** ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Also, thank you shezwriter for helping me out with the first scene. It's difficult when you ask what to read for and get the reply "I dunno, it just doesn't sound right. Fix it plez?" (Not that I did that, of course. *shifty eyes*)**

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and thanks for reading!**

**Rhyss**


	32. Family Reunion

**Hello friends; hope you enjoy this new chapter!**

* * *

"The second match will be between Asterra and Pokkle. Applicants, step forward."

The Resca pushed off the wall and slid past the other applicants who were lined up before her in a line to take her place in the center of the room, taking stock of her current condition as she walked. _Left arm somewhat numb, but easily bleeds. Some pain on impact. Right arm fine. Nausea and chills every once in a while, with moments of dizziness._ Given the factors, she would perhaps be best fighting in a more grounded, boxing-like style—landing on her rear while attempting to land a kick would put her at a disadvantage, as well as be extremely embarrassing. From there, she could aim for an opportunity to perform a joint lock, then apply pressure and pain until Pokkle surrendered.

Of course, all of this would be entirely dependent on Pokkle's style of fighting. Her observations had led to a conclusion that Pokkle was most likely not military, gang, assassin, or any sort of profession that involved harming humans. The youth had looked much too green during the three hours of torture that Hanzo had inflicted upon Gon to be someone involved in such dealings.

Standing across from him gave her the opportunity to size him up. His build was similar to Kurapika's—he was taller than her by an inch or so, but slight. Their reach would most likely be similar, then.

"Examiner, is she allowed to have her Dokujo with her?" Pokkle asked, pointing at Kikiri perched on Asterra's shoulder.

"Companion animals are considered weapons and therefore allowed," Masta replied smoothly. "Any other questions?"

"No," the Resca replied.

"Nope," Pokkle replied as well.

"Then we will proceed with the match." Masta swung his hands down. "Begin!"

Pokkle launched at her. Asterra whistled two quick notes, a high pitch that melted into a medium pitch, as she redirected the blow aimed at her face. Kikiri dove into her hood as Pokkle's fist sailed into the air above her shoulder. In the next moment the fist came rushing back at her in a hammer and she stepped out of the arc, feeling the air from the blow rush by her nose.

Pokkle merely continued to advance with a hiss, and Asterra continued to redirect the blows, using the time to observe and recognize any patterns in his fighting style. His stance and form were solid; he knew how to throw a punch with enough force to bruise, and also did a fair job of keeping his hands up and face guarded. This applicant could handle himself if accosted by the average thug.

Of course, Asterra wasn't an average thug.

 _Time to end this._ Pokkle's movements had become familiar by now; he preferred jabs and crosses in rapid fire, with the occasional roundhouse kick. The hunter also seemed hesitant to step into the close combat zone to throw body blows in the forms of hooks and uppercuts. At this point the chances of him having something to spring on her seemed slim. So as another jab came, she could already see what she would do: deflect, stun, grab his a—

A tsunami of nausea and dizziness hit her all at once, making the floor beneath her sway, and her mind went blank. In the next moment there was pain radiating from her face, the familiar sensation of a black eye, followed by a blow to her gut and her body careened in the direction of the force. There was a slight gasp from the more excitable applicants spectating, but that was of no consequence. What was important was to distance herself from the enemy, _now_. Her breath forced itself through pursed lips in a high note, and the weight in her hood lightened. In the next moment there was a yelp of surprise from in front.

When she blinked and could see again, Kikiri had wrapped himself around Pokkle's body. As she shook her head to clear the fog, she hissed in pain, then whistled again. The sinews in Kikiri's side tightened as the constriction began to take hold. But somehow Pokkle had managed to keep one arm free, and that arm flashed towards Kikiri's head.

The arm seemed to lightly poke at Kikiri's skin, but the response to the action was more dramatic. Kikiri's muscles rippled unnaturally. The youth then shifted his shoulders and suddenly Kikiri was sliding down his body, the constriction-hold no more, until he was akin to a pile of ropes on the floor.

"What?!" Leorio exclaimed.

Asterra blinked as Pokkle stepped out of the coil at his feet. The Dokujo spasmed, shrank back to normal size, then went slack.

The movements had been so quick, sudden, and wholly unexpected. What Pokkle had done was push a pressure point on the back of Kikiri's neck near the skull that only expert hunters and owners of Dokujo knew how to exploit. It wasn't a killing blow; merely a stunning one that was used to subdue an unruly Dokujo for several minutes.

Pokkle then took a couple steps to her left, effectively taking a position that would leave Kikiri outside the area of combat. Asterra mimicked the motion, stepping to get the fight farther away from Kikiri. "You're a knowledgeable hunter," she commented, adopting body language that would make herself more threatening and force Pokkle to shift his focus from Kikiri to her. Eventually she should move to put herself between the Dokujo and Pokkle, but best not to make it too obvious. "Not many know that pressure point."

"My cousin has a Dokujo he uses to help hunt pests." Pokkle mirrored her steps, his brown eyes focused on her. "So yeah, I know how to get out of a strangle hold."

The wave of nausea continued, and she bit the inside of her lip, hard. Hoped the pain would snap her out of it.

"You don't look too good," Pokkle commented.

"You're not the first one to tell me that," she replied.

"No, like you _really_ don't look good. Like quit now and go get help while you're still breathing."

She flashed her teeth at him. "Nice try." The dizziness was beginning to subside, although for how long? "What's wrong, hunter? No glory in fighting weakened prey?"

His brow furrowed. "Suit yourself," he muttered, putting a foot back, then launched at her.

The flurry of blows was predictable, and he made no move to grapple her. Maybe it was not in his repertoire. But it was to her advantage; she could deflect blows easily without exacerbating the dizziness and nausea. It let her play for time, even if some of the blows did clip her shoulder and face with enough force to bruise. _Spirits, please._ _Just one moment of clarity; I just need one moment—_

The youth lunged at her with another strike that she avoided, then transitioned into a roundhouse kick that aimed for her left kidney.

And in that moment, time froze. Colors intensified, sounds became a dull roar, and she could feel every fiber of her body, every bit of oxygen filling and leaving her lungs. Possibilities ricocheted in her head—block with her left arm, a normal course of action that would result in enough pain to stun her for a moment and leave her open; stepping out of the way was not an option due to her positioning. That left an unorthodox move that would either work beautifully or horribly. Hopefully the former.

Her left arm moved as if to block, but did not stop; instead, left hand wrenched the sword free of the scabbard, bearing enough of the blade to cover her left side. Pokkle's eyes widened at the new obstacle—a sharp edge that was in the way of his shin's trajectory—and his leg immediately slowed.

_Gotcha._

Asterra slammed the sword back into its scabbard and lunged forward into striking range. A light right cross sent the youth stumbling back. Her right hand, now claw-like in shape, dropped to Pokkle's collar and gripped the front of his shirt. A quick yank brought the youth back into range, then orange blurred towards him.

_CRACK!_

Forehead slammed into sellion with a snarl, and the youth slumped forward in a daze. A sidestep carried her into his blindspot; it was all too easy to capture his right arm and shove him to the floor after that. The impact seemed to wake Pokkle from his stupor, as she felt him struggle underneath the leg she was using to pin him. Her reply was to hold his arm more tightly at an angle in which she could dislocate his shoulder.

"Yield," she hissed, her voice low. "I can ruin this arm with a single twist."

The youth froze beneath her. The sight was reminiscent of a rabbit in the clutches of a falcon—the body beneath her shook with nervous energy that steadily bubbled up in anticipation of bolting, despite the odds.

"You didn't hold Kikiri—the Dokujo—hostage when you could have," the Resca continued. "Let me return the favor. Let me end this without crippling you."

When Pokkle did not reply, she applied more pressure. There was a grimace of pain, and the body beneath her attempted to thrash out.

Cold spread within her insides at the defiance—the rime and steel of finality, decisiveness. This was not a new situation; she had been at this crossroad before, where one path lead to submission and the other lead to screams in response to the crack of bones, the dull ripping sound of tendons and ligaments giving out. Of being in a position where she had the power to ruin one's life as much as she wanted to…if she so desired.

Heavy breathing from beneath her, and the body shook underneath her foot. Asterra gave him credit for not screaming. But she could not give him too much credit; she had her own path to forge, and she needed that Hunter license. If Pokkle did not accept mercy, take the escape route she had offered to him, then that was his fault.

Another twist of her wrist placed more pressure, more force to—

"I yield!" His voice was desperate, and the cry echoed through the empty room.

The voice cut through the frost, the near-trance she had entered; time and reality snapped back into place like a rubber band released from being pulled back too tightly. _Let him go, let him go._ Asterra slowly alleviated pressure—letting him go immediately would have hurt him as well—and stepped away, arms raised.

The youth slumped forward, the hands slapping onto the stone floor. Shoulders shuddered with each deep breath, and the brown eyes that glared back at her burned with malice. She set one hand on the pommel of her sword lightly and met his gaze coolly. _Get in line; you're not the first one that's looked at me like that._

Masta threw his left arm—the one closest to the Resca—down. "The winner is Asterra!"

The phrase echoed in her head. Again, and again, and again.

 _I've done it. I've passed. I'm a Hunter._ The words registered numbly in her head—so much had lead up to this moment, and it felt a little unreal that with those four words signaled that she had crossed the finish line. Her feet trudged forward on their own accord, propelled forward by the thought that she should move, make room for the next fight.

She reached down and picked up Kikiri, cradling the creature in her arms, then changed course to the clump of applicants along the wall. She vaguely heard Leorio congratulating her and slurred back a thank you out of reflex rather than courtesy. Her current focus was getting to the wall as quickly as possible, because something told her that she needed it _now,_ before—

Her back slammed against the wall; the nausea and dizziness that slammed into her felt every bit as real as the concrete behind her. It took every bit of discipline—and pride—to quell the urge to wretch, to force the vomit back into her stomach. Her arm felt like it was on fire; clearly the painkillers, both the medicine and the natural endorphins, had worn off. Not to mention the fact that she just wanted to sleep and not wake up for a very, very long time.

Masta announced the next match, but it sounded far away. She closed her eyes as nausea rocked her, made her feel like she was on a small boat in choppy seas.

"You're looking swell, Goldfish," Killua deadpanned.

She merely growled in response, her mind too clouded to come up with a response. After a few moments she opened her eyes to focus—well, attempted to focus—her attention to the next fight.

Kurapika and Hisoka walked to the center of the room, faces expressionless. Then Masta threw down his hands to signal the start of the fight.

The two applicants became a blur.

 _Shit._ The Resca narrowed her eyes. Not being able to see Hisoka was to be expected, but not being able to see the Kurta's movements was not. Either she had greatly underestimated Kurapika's agility, or her concentration was shot. The latter seemed more likely, since it was getting harder and harder to focus; Asterra could feel her body relaxing, demanding her to slow down, now that she knew she didn't have to fight anyone anymore. Well, for now.

She pinched the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger, tempted to ask the Spirits for focus. But it was not wise to ask too much of them, lest they ignore a request when she needed it most. Best to thank them for that moment of clarity during the fight with Pokkle and do what she could in the present.

Eventually, her eyes caught up again…barely. The two individuals became less of a blur, and she could see Kurapika's flurry of blows and strikes aimed at Hisoka. The redhaired man dodged and guided them all away easily, minimizing the damage done to him. _Blondie's being played with,_ she observed. Another strike—one Kurapika barely managed to block—sent the youth hurtling backwards. Hisoka was in front of him before the blonde could even widen his eyes in surprise. _And that's checkmate._

But the killing blow never came.

Instead, Hisoka's pale lips moved quickly, and while she couldn't read his lips fully she caught "Spiders" in the midst. Kurapika's eyes widened.

The man then straightened and proclaimed, "I lose."

_What?_

Hisoka was clearly the better fighter, and the most likely to win. In any other situation, it should have been Kurapika that yielded after hearing Hisoka's words; yet here, the opposite had happened. The Resca turned toward Kurapika. The blonde looked slightly ill, but he did not look poisoned; more like he had taken a psychological or emotional sucker punch. What had Hisoka said to him?

Leorio had thought the same thing, apparently; but when he asked Kurapika about what Hisoka had said, the Kurta merely shook his head and replied, "Later."

The rest of the matches were quick and straightforward.

The fourth match between Hanzo and Pokkle was over in a matter of seconds. Pokkle, caught in another joint lock yet again, was tapping out furiously before his arm could be broken. The youth really needed to work on his groundwork if he wanted to survive his time as a Hunter. It was much too easy for him to end up in compromised situations.

The fifth match was Hisoka vs Bodoro, with the marital artist doing a lot of screaming but not much damage. Spirits, yes it helped when one exhaled sharply when landing blows, but was accompanying each blow with a battlecry truly necessary? How was he supposed to take out people quietly?

Bodoro charged once more. Hisoka took the blow with one hand and pulled him in, landing a face blow and then a side kick to the man's chin. _Yep, he's done for._ But then the old man was getting up again, making it clear that despite being clearly outclassed, he made up for it in grit. Regardless, Bodoro ended up on the floor again. Hisoka whispered something in Bodoro's ear; this time, the martial artist that surrendered on the spot.

The sixth match was between Pokkle and Killua. _Look who's going to end up in a joint lock again,_ she thought humorlessly. But as soon as the fight started, Killua walked away. "Sorry, but I'm not interested in fighting you."

The spell of nausea had subsided, and she felt just enough annoyance to throw verbal jabs at the assassin. "Feeling confident, are we?" she asked sarcastically as Killua stood next to her.

"What? I wasn't interested. Wouldn't you rather win with a fun fight?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're an arrogant git, aren't you?"

"The one and only," he smirked. "Seriously though, what's the point if it isn't fun?"

Asterra replied in Rescan. When Killua cocked his head at her, she repeated the line in Basic. "Wolves don't choose to hunt the healthy over the lame." She put a hand on her sword pommel. "Opportunities should be taken as they come, not squandered for potential thrills."

"Yeesh Goldfish, live life on the edge a little."

"I have lived on the edge before. Didn't enjoy it much—bad neighborhood."

"Aaaand the dad jokes continue," Killua muttered.

The seventh match was between Leorio and the recently incapacitated Bodoro. However, the beanpole of a human requested that the fight be postponed while Bodoro recovered from his injuries. _Are you kidding me? Curb stomp him!_ She would have considered screaming the words had she possessed the energy.

The postponing of the sixth match meant that it was Killua's turn to fight Mouse. However, the assassin once again forfeited the fight after taking one look at Mouse. Mouse simply shrugged and murmured something in a foreign language, then walked back to his spot among the applicants. Then it was announced that Gittarackur would be Killua's next opponent, and the long-limbed man clad in green took a position across from Killua in the center of the room. This time, the silver-haired boy did not forfeit the match.

"Killua vs Gittarackur—begin!" Masta threw down his arms and backed away.

Killua inched forward, his footsteps eerily making no sound. Gittarackur's posture did not change; it looked like he intended to stand there like a statue until he finally said, "It's been too long, Kil."

The boy froze.

Kil? It sounded like a nickname, indicating familiarity, yet from Killua's actions it didn't seem like the silver-haired assassin recognized his opponent.

There was a clattering sound, like the jaws of a wooden doll smacking against each other, then Gittarackur began to pull the pins out of his face, ears, and neck as if they were acupuncture needles. Then his face began to—for a lack of better terms—twitch and fill out. Sharp features and hooked nose gave way to rounder details, each change accompanied by a sound akin to rubber gloves being snapped onto a hand. His purple mohawk quivered and, then changed color from the root as if his scalp was pumping ink down each fiber of hair. Within moments a short purple mohawk had given way to straighter, thicker black hair that stretched all the way down to the back of his legs.

Asterra's stomach churned at the change. _By the Spirits, what the—_

"Brother," Killua breathed.

_Brother?_

Killua's eyes were opened wide with…was that fear? She turned her attention back to this lean youth about as tall as Leorio in front of her. Large, dark eyes blinked slowly on either side of a straight nose, a small mouth. He looked like he could be a model—a very dead-inside looking one—but with his dark features, he looked nothing like Killua. But from how Killua was looking at him, he was apparently much more skilled than the boy.

"Hey," Killua's brother greeted back.

"Killua's brother?" Leorio breathed.

"He used those needles to change the shape of his face?" Kurapika murmured.

The mention of the needles made Asterra think of the golden needle that had taken the Sniper out. The needle had been cloaked with a malice tinged with annoyance, the same she had associated with Killua when he killed on the airship. That would explain things if the owner of the needle was Killua's brother—they were the same blood and likely had a similar upbringing.

"I heard that you cut up Mom and Milluki." The tone was informative and flat; no emotion tinged it, which made Asterra question what kind of familial bonds tied Killua's family together.

"Yeah," Killua replied, a bead of sweat running down his brow.

"Mom was crying."

"Of course she was. Anyone would cry if their son did that to them," Leorio muttered.

"She was crying tears of joy," Gittarackur continued. "She was so happy to see that you'd grown up."

_What in the actual fuck is with this kid's family?_

"That's messed up," Kikiri whispered, as if he could read her thoughts.

"But she was worried about you leaving home, so she asked me to check up on you." Killua's brother—was his name actually Gittarackur, or something else?—continued nonchalantly, treating this as a casual catch-up. "What a coincidence, though. I didn't know you wanted to be a Hunter. I'm actually trying to get a license for my next job."

"I don't really want to be a Hunter." The silver-haired boy looked like he wanted to shrink into the ground, from how his shoulders curled the slightest bit inwards. "I just felt like taking the exam."

"I see. That's a relief." There was a quietness in Gittarackur's voice, and Asterra felt the air grow heavier, oppressive. It constricted her throat, and made her hairs stand up on end. Killua's brother continued, "Then I can give you some advice without feeling too bad—you're not cut out to be a Hunter."

Killua made himself even smaller in response to the sentence that had slammed into him with the finality of a guillotine, making no attempt to stop Gittarackur's words. It was…jarring to see Killua just taking this verbal abuse without launching back with a witty retort of his own. It reminded her of how a lower-ranking dog in a pack showed its stomach before the alpha out of fear rather than love or respect.

"After all, you were born to be an assassin. A puppet of darkness, without passion. You don't want anything or wish for anything. As one who lives—who feeds—in the shadows, the only time you feel pleasure is when you're faced with others' death. That's how Dad and I raised you, after all. What would you accomplish by becoming a Hunter?"

"Yeah, you're right. I don't want to become a Hunter." Killua's words were timid. "But…there is something I want."

"No, there isn't," Killua's brother stated simply, definitively, as if he were correcting Killua.

"Yes, there is!" Fire and steel returned to Killua's voice. His body language widened, shoulders being thrown outward and stance widening.

"Yes! Give that jerk a piece of your mind!" Kikiri cheered quietly.

Gittarackur blinked once, twice. "All right then; I'll play your game. Tell me. What do you desire?"

Killua choked and looked down again. Silence.

"What's wrong?" Gittarackur's tone shifted, as if he were trying to coax out an answer but failing horribly. "Let me guess—there actually isn't anything you want."

"That's not it!" Killua hissed. He was on the boundary between fear and daring, like a person testing the waters before taking the plunge. And plunge he did, choking out after a few stutters, "I want to become friends with Gon!"

Gittarackur cocked his head to the side.

"…I'm sick of killing people," Killua continued. "I want to become friends with Gon, and have fun like a normal kid…"

Asterra's eyes snapped up at the words.

"That's impossible. You'll never be able to make friends." Gittarackur's reply left no room for argument, continuing in that guillotine-like finality.

Killua looked up, his eyes wide.

"The only criteria you judge people you meet on is whether you can kill them or not—that's how you were trained. You just don't know how to classify Gon because he's too dazzling for you. You don't actually want to become friends with him."

Asterra still leaned against the wall, arms crossed. But now, bandaged fingers tightened around the sleeve of her hoodie, making the sleeves bunch up. Her shoulders hunched as her arms dug into her stomach.

"You're wrong…" Killua whispered.

"If you stay by him, the magic'll wear off one day and you'll end up wanting to kill him…just to see if you can."

"No, I—"

Gittarackur continued mercilessly, twisting the metaphorical blade into the wound. "Because, Kil…you're a killer, through and through."

Killua shrank at the words, as if he had been slapped.

Malice cracked in the air around Asterra like static electricity finally set free, making Kikiri flinch. The Dokujo observed her carefully, at the way her hair floated around her face and how her sea-green eyes burned with something other than fever. Her mouth was set in a grim line.

"Asterra…?" he whispered.

The Resca's eyes were fixated on the two applicants in the middle of the room, unaware of the looks she was getting with her malice from several other applicants.

In front of her, Leorio shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped a couple steps forward. A judge stepped in front of him to stop him. "As we mentioned before…"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time!" He peered around the judge. "Killua! I don't give a damn if he's your brother, I'm still gonna say this." He took a breath, then roared, "Don't listen to the words of a worthless piece of shit who doesn't know what he's saying! Just beat the shit out of him like usual and win! You want to become friends with Gon? Are you shitting me? You're already friends!"

"Really?" Gittarackur's tone was curious.

"Fuck yeah, you idiot!"

"Really? He already considers Kil a friend? We can't have that." Gittarackur brought his hand to his chin in thought. "Well, only one way to fix that. Time to get rid of Gon."

A gasp ran through the crowd and the air around Gittarackur twisted into something malicious as he produced needles from his pockets. "An assassin doesn't need friends—they'll only slow you down. Where is he?"

Killua choked—whether he was unwilling to speak or unable to was beyond Asterra.

Gittarackur began to walk towards the door Gon had left in. One of the officials stepped up to stop him, but the dark-haired youth simply threw the needles at him without sparing him a glance. There was a sickening crunch as the very bones of the man's face contorted, leaving the man gurgling for breath. "Where is he?" the assassin asked.

Crack, crunch, crack. "The waiting room over there…" the man struggled out before collapsing to his knees.

"Much obliged," Gittarackur replied, then kept walking only to be blocked by four individuals: Kurapika, Leorio, Hanzo…and Asterra.

 _ **Fool! What are you doing? You're in no state to be fighting against an impossible foe!**_ Her reptile brain tittered, words and panic reverberating within her like an angry hornet's nest. It was right, of course. This was incredibly stupid, unwise, rash, ill-thought-out—

Yet it felt so natural. Perhaps it was the fever finally taking over her mental faculties, but it felt strangely good to do something stupid for once.

"What a to-do," Gittarackur sighed. "I need a Hunter license to do my job…but if I kill them, I'll fail and Kil will pass automatically. Oh, wait a minute though…the same thing will happen if I kill Gon now." There was something strange about this youth's nonchalance—how he thought through the entire process of kill or not to kill as if mulling over a sandwich menu. "Oh wait! I know. I'll pass the exam and then kill Gon!"

The oppressive malice swelled, and Asterra grit her teeth while panic rang the alarm bells in her head, screaming at her to run _run_ _**run**_. Her hand hovered over her sword.

"You bastard," Leorio snarled.

Gittarackur directed his question towards the Examiner Committee. "If I wait until after passing the exam, I can kill everyone here and still keep my license, right?"

"According to the rules, yes." Netero replied.

"Hear that, Kil? You have to beat me if you want to save Gon." He turned to walk toward Killua, who just looked like he wanted to disappear into the stone tiles of the floor. "Will you fight me for your friend's sake? Of course you can't—you're more worried about whether or not you can defeat me at this moment than your friend's welfare." Gittarackur was only a few inches away from Killua now, and he was extending his hand towards him. "And you already have your answer: 'I'm not strong enough to beat my brother.' Dad and I drilled it into you to never fight an enemy you can't beat, after all." His fingers outstretched towards Killua, who was hyperventilating. The boy tried to take a step—

"Don't move!" Gittarackur ordered. "If you move even an inch, or if our bodies make contact, I'll assume that the fight has begun. There's only one way to stop me. You know what that is." Closer and closer Gittarackur hand loomed. "But don't forget—if you don't fight me, your dear Gon will die."

She narrowed her eyes. There was a niggling feeling in her brain—she was missing something. But her brain was so foggy she couldn't tell what was wrong. Everything was smothered by the oppressive malice, and it was starting to give her have a dull headache, like the ones that came with dehydration.

"Take him out, Killua!" Leorio yelled. "We won't let him kill you or Gon, whatever it takes! So let him have it!"

Apparently that was not enough assurance, for instead of moving Killua choked out, "I surrender."

Gittarackur sighed in relief and patted Killua on the shoulder. "Good, good; the battle's done then. I'm sorry for what I did there—I was lying about killing Gon, I just wanted to test you. But I definitely have my answer now." He went down to one knee, grabbing Killua's head and bringing it closer to him. He lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. "You don't have the right to make friends, and you don't need them either. You should just listen to Dad and me and do your job as you always have. If you need to take the Hunter Exam, I'll tell you when to take it. You don't need a license yet."

Gittarackur then let the boy go and walked back to the other applicants. Killua stared into the ground for an uncomfortably long time, then walked back to the applicants as well. Kurapika and Leorio were quick to rush over to him and try to talk to him, and even Asterra found herself walking more quickly than usual.

When she reached the group, Leorio was currently on one knee in front of the boy and seemed to be checking the boy's face. But his attempts to make eye contact were failing; Killua's dark blue eyes stared into the ground in front of him, and he was completely unresponsive to Leorio and Kurapika's attempts to communicate. The two applicants would have had better interacting with livestock; at least a horse or sheep would look at a human when one approached.

"Oi, arrogant little git; this is why you don't throw opportunities away." She took on a more belligerent tone than usual to see if she could elicit a response.

It didn't.

Asterra peered into his face and furrowed her brows. _Spirits, he looks…empty._ In his current state the assassin looked and felt like a doll—dark blue eyes completely subdued without even the faintest glimmer of mischief or curiosity were set in a face pulled smooth by an eerily bland expression. Her stomach twisted at the sight and she found him wishing, willing for him to throw a sharp retort, a cutting remark, to call her Goldfish. But there was nothing.

Her right hand curled into a fist.

"What happened to him?" Kikiri murmured. "It's like he's been…drained of all personality, or something."

"I don't see any wounds," Leorio noted.

"Perhaps the issue is mental and not physical. Gittarackur could have hypnotized him," Kurapika suggested. "Which brings us to the question 'Into doing what?' Was it just forfeiting the fight?"

 _Or was it something more sinister…like killing Gon._ Asterra couldn't bring herself to say the thought out loud, lest vocalizing the thought brought it that much closer to becoming a reality. It was a futile thing to dwell on as well; reversing hypnosis was not in her repertoire of skills, and they didn't even know for certain if Killua had been hypnotized.

"The next battle will be between Leorio and Bodoro. Applicants, take your places," Masta announced.

Leorio rose. "Well, that's me." His dark eyes darted from Killua to Kurapika to Asterra. Kurapika nodded, agreeing wordlessly to look out for Killua.

Asterra replied, "You've done what you can. Focus on your fight."

As the youth walked away, Kurapika mused coolly, "I'm surprised you went to the door."

"Come again?" The Resca turned towards the Kurta.

"Just then, with Gittarackur. I thought you would have stayed back to save your own skin."

She bristled. Snide words were the last thing she needed compiled upon the nausea, dizziness, and fatigue that threatened to drag her under, and there was a part of her that wanted to throttle the blonde. But she felt Kikiri's claws dig into her skin— _be nice_ , it warned—and forced her voice to take on a tone of barely suppressed (as opposed to outright) hostility. "Like you said—I'm a common thug. I use violence and action to express myself."

Kurapika looked back at her, expression unreadable, then faced forward again towards the fight. Bodoro looked worse for wear, but despite his face being mottled with bruises he was standing firmly in front of Leorio.

"Bodoro vs Leorio – begin!" Masta announced.

The older martial artist crouched into an obnoxiously wide and exaggerated fighting position; Leorio's stance widened into something that could react to an attack from any direction. Apparently the youth was accustomed to fighting more than one person at once; perhaps the city-slicker had fought his share of brawls in alleyways.

Just as the two were about to lunge at each other, though, white and dark blue flit into view next to Bodoro.

Asterra blinked, and a quick glance revealed that Killua was no longer standing next to her. In the next glance she saw the claws, felt the killing intent, felt how Kikiri bristled against her neck. Vicious foreign syllables tumbled forth from her lips. "No!" she hissed, lunging forward only to have the floor lurch under her. She grabbed the wall for support. "Don't—"

Bodoro's back arched unnaturally as Killua's hand drilled through his rib cage and ripped out of the other side.

Silence permeated the room—so much so that one could have sworn they could hear the sound of blood rushing out of Bodoro. The majority of the applicants and examiners' mouths were wide open, eyes shocked. Leorio was the first to finally move, rushing over to check Bodoro's pulse. Other Examiners then leaped forward to check on the older man, a flurry of words and alarmed chatter soon displacing the silence. Amongst the chaos that roiled around him, Killua merely stood stiffly, quietly like a statue.

And then he moved. One foot lightly stepping in front of the other, he walked towards the door the applicants had entered through. The applicants stepped aside hurriedly, making way for the assassin to walk through.

"Killua," Kurapika started, reaching for the boy, only to have his shoulder grabbed roughly by Asterra and be yanked back.

"Don't." The Resca's grip on his shoulder tightened. "He'll kill you on reflex."

Kurapika shook off her grip. His grey eyes flitted towards the receding figure as the door soundlessly opened. The heavy wooden doors slammed shut behind him, the sound of finality. "What…was that? Why would he…?"

"Something empty," she murmured, grasping the pommel of her sword. "A switch flipped, and he became empty."

Before the Kurta could reply, Netero cleared his throat numerous times until the furious chatter amongst the crowd became silent. He continued in a solid, sonorous voice. "It pains me to announce that Bodoro is dead. As previously announced, killing results in an instant disqualification from the Hunter Exam. I hereby officially disqualify applicant #99, Killua, from the Hunter Exam—although it seems like the young man has already seen himself out—and declare that the remaining applicants have officially passed the Hunter Exam. Congratulations, new Hunters!"

Kikiri chittered angrily at her shoulder.

Netero continued. "Tomorrow, we will officially pass out new licenses and perform a debriefing session on the privileges, rules, and regulations that come with being a Hunter. Until then, please rest in one of the hotel rooms of your choosing. That is all."

For a moment, the applicants looked at each other. Then, slowly but surely they started filing out of the doors Killua had just exited through. Leorio placed his hands together in silent prayer, head bowed. He then rose from his position next to Bodoro, brows furrowed, and walked over to Kurapika and Asterra.

"This is fucked up," he muttered. "How am I supposed to be happy about passing if this is how I passed?"

"It's most definitely a situation that leaves a bad taste in one's mouth," Kurapika agreed. "However, there has to be a way we can reverse this. Killua was clearly controlled by that Gittarackur; if we can persuade the Chairman of this…"

"Or I could say that I'm the one that should actually be disqualified. Killua must have known that I would have lost against Bodoro, so he tried to help me."

"Persuade the Chairman all you want; won't be much use if Killua's left the hotel already," Asterra added.

"Your optimism is blinding," Kurapika deadpanned.

She smiled thinly at him. "Not as blinding as your wannabe-paragon mindset, Blondie."

"That's enough," Kikiri interjected forcefully before the conversation devolved into a storm of _ad hominem._ "Look, I think we've all done enough to deserve a good day's rest. So why don't we table this discussion for tomorrow, when we have that debrief session?"

"The rodent's right," Leorio added.

"I also agree with Kikiri," Kurapika nodded. "Moving foolishly won't help our case. Let's try again tomorrow. Maybe Gon will be awake by then."

Asterra pushed off the wall. "Do what you like; the little git'll be long gone."

The trio started walking through the marble hallways. Kurapika and Leorio took wide strides effortlessly; Asterra, on the other hand, had to keep one hand on the wall and almost shuffle along. Her limbs refused to coordinate their movements, while nausea and dizziness made it feel like she was on a different planet.

"Asterra, are you okay?" Kikiri asked.

The Resca nodded. "I can…make it back…" But her movements continued to be sluggish.

"Hey, take it easy. Let's ask someone for help. Leorio! Kura—"

_By the Spirits, don't. I can make it back. I can—_

The Resca's knees slammed into the floor, and she collapsed into a pile of limbs with all the grace of a marionette whose strings had been suddenly cut. She barely had enough strength to throw her forearms in front of her so she could land on the floor in a relatively safe manner.

"Asterra!" Kikiri's voice was frantic in her ear. "Asterra! Oh no oh no oh no, somebody HELP—"

 _Oh stop fussing, you mother hen,_ she thought. _I'm fine, I just tripped. I'll be back up in—_

The train of thought was swallowed up by blackness.

* * *

**I feel like I picked on Pokkle a bit in this chapter, but oh well.**

**Thanks for reading to the end ;)**

**-Rhyss**


	33. Hippocratic x Hypocrite

**Hello friends! Here's another chapter for you all.**

* * *

Perhaps it was a testament to her training that Asterra fell relatively quietly, sounding more like she had tripped rather than blacked out. But Kikiri's frantic shouts soon signaled otherwise, causing a flurry of activity and people to surround the Resca.

"Asterra?" Leorio knelt down by her and shook her shoulder. "Hey? Hey?!"

"Move aside please." Masta politely jostled the youth aside. For a moment it looked like Leorio was going to snap at the man, but then he backed off. Meanwhile the Examiner turned the Resca over and proceeded to check her vitals—placing two fingers along her jawline for her pulse and carefully listening to her breaths, which were audibly labored and rapid. He then pressed into her sternum with a closed fist, using his knuckles to rub vigorously. When the Resca didn't respond to several seconds of rubbing, he pressed into the communicator in his ear and said, "Get over to the West Ballroom now. We've got a young female, unknown age—"

"She's sixteen," Leorio interjected.

"Scratch that, sixteen year-old female, nonresponsive to a sternal rub and displaying fever, tachypnea and tachycardia," Masta finished.

"What's wrong with her? Where are you taking her?" Kikiri demanded.

"To a hospital," Masta replied. "Your master needs serious medical attention."

"I'm going with her."

"You can't—"

"NO!" the Dokujo roared, placing himself squarely on Asterra's chest. He snapped at Masta's hand, and the Examiner recoiled. Small fangs glistened cruelly, the venom that coated them catching the light. "Where Asterra goes, I go! PERIOD!"

Masta and Kikiri glared at each other as paramedics rushed into the hallway, wheels of the stretcher clattering against the tile. Kikiri fluffed up as the paramedics neared, a feral light entering his eyes as his body coursed with adrenaline.

"Let the ferret go with her," Leorio cut in. "He knows her best out of all of us."

"Fine," Masta sighed, then hissed under his breath, "but if anybody asks, you're an emotional support animal."

Kikiri's fur flattened, and he let the paramedics check over her, moving out of the way as needed but never straying more than three feet from her. Once the girl was strapped securely onto the stretcher he leaped onto her chest, parroting "I'm an emotional support animal" to anyone that asked as she was wheeled away. The paramedics made no attempt to brush him off.

As Leorio lurched forward to follow, Netero held out his arm. "Menchi," the elderly man called.

"On it," the tan woman replied, following the paramedics with confident strides.

"You two need to rest," Netero followed, looking at Leorio and Kurapika with a steady eye. "Don't worry, your friend is in good hands."

"Leorio, come on," Kurapika said. "You can't do anything more."

"Tch," he spat. He then yelled, "Hey, ferret! Make sure the doctor sees the papers I gave Asterra!"

The Dokujo turned back and nodded.

Netero once again called to the crowd of applicants. "Come now, nothing more to see. The spectacle is done."

The crowd cleared, each walking off to enjoy their time of rest until the debrief.

"I told her she should have quit while she was still standing," Pokkle muttered as he walked out of the hallway.

=o=o=o=

**Kaerun Hospital, emergency room**

The ER had been experiencing a lull in activity, so when the paramedics called to report an ETA in two minutes they were able to easily accommodate. Asterra was quickly and efficiently transferred to a hospital bed from the stretcher.

"Background?" the ER physician Dr. Javal, a white-haired woman in her mid-sixties with sharp eyes asked. The paramedics began to explain the situation, handing her the history of present illness document that had been prepared by Leorio earlier. Dr. Javal scanned the document, pleasantly surprised by its thoroughness, then asked the nurses to cut the bandages over the knife wounds away.

"Why is she wearing so many bandages?" A nurse grumbled as she used a pair of scissors to cut through the cloth. "I swear, kids' fashions these da—" The nurse's words froze as she peeled back the bandages to see what they had been hiding underneath. "What on Earth?"

The entire ER room froze at the sight of what was embedded in Asterra's skin—bits of sea-green crystal, glinting dully like the glass of a soda bottle, connected to each other by a network of pale scar tissues that ran across her skin in a pattern reminiscent of cracked earth.

The doctor was the first to break the silence and usher movement within the room again. "Surtow, please continue cutting. This patient can't afford any delays. Surtow?"

"R-right." The nurse resumed cutting once more.

"All right everyone, you know the drill. Start the clock and let's get to work." The ER doctor repeated the quote she used before starting treatment with every case, as if trying to emphasize normalcy for a patient with a clearly abnormal physique. "Miska, prep the patient for a peripheral IV; we'll be giving pip-tazo and fluids. Sert, see if you can find this Mouse fellow from the Hunter Exam and determine if he coats his knives with anything—you know what some of these Hunters can be like. See if the female Hunter who came with the patient can get you anywhere."

Both nurses answered affirmatively and sped off to complete their tasks. Soon the snips of the scissors cutting away cloth was drowned out by other sounds: the sound of vitals monitors being carted in, sensors being connected, and the collection of IV bags and equipment with a controlled urgency.

=o=o=o=

**Day 1 after the conclusion of the Hunter Exam**

It had been a rather eventful day for Gon.

He had woken up in a fancy hotel room, a little confused as to how he had ended up there. Satotoz had helped fill in the blanks and presented his new Hunter License to him. He didn't deserve it, wouldn't deserve it until he could punch Hisoka in the face, but Satotz had not let him refuse the license when he had passed the Hunter Exam. Then the older Hunter had revealed what had happened between Killua and Gittarackur, whose real name was Illumi, and Gon had stormed out of the room to confront the black-haired assassin. Within the span of minutes, he had broken the older assassin's wrist and found out Killua's address, which meant now he could go rescue Killua from a family that clearly didn't treat his friend well.

He would have left immediately for Kukuroo Mountain; Leorio and Kurapika were ready to go as well. But then he learned that Asterra had been hospitalized because she had collapsed after the exam. So even if he wanted to leave, he couldn't; not before checking if Asterra wanted to help too. So after asking Pokkle about Ging Freecs, they had left to go to the hospital to see how Asterra was doing.

"I wonder if she's awake," Gon asked as the trio waited within the elevator to take them up from the basement to the third floor of the hospital, where the ICU was.

"Who knows. If she's in the ICU, it's not guaranteed," Leorio replied.

There was a ding as the elevator stopped at the ground floor. The doors opened to let another person in, and the three moved to the sides to make room for the newcomer.

They didn't expect the newcomer to be someone they know. It was a big hospital (seven floors) in a big city in a country none of them had been to before. So when they recognized the person who walked through those doors, they froze.

"Oh," Gon gulped. "Hi, Ponzu."

The young woman was dressed in the white hospital clothes—a shirt and trousers made of light material—which was a stark contrast to her more colorful salmon pink and yellow outfit from the Zevil Island phase. Her hat was missing as well, making her look a little smaller than when they had last seen her. While she did not seem to be ill, there were dark circles under her eyes and a slowness to her gait. She took in the trio as she stepped into the elevator, taking a position near the floor buttons to press her destination floor. "Well, well, well. Must be fate for us to all meet again."

"What are you doing in the hospital?" Kurapika asked.

"Recovering from a moderate case of exposure and dehydration. I should be out in a couple of days." She turned towards the trio. "Oh, don't give me that look. I don't have a grudge against you—it's a waste of time. I took a gamble, and these are the results I got.

"So…you're not angry?" Gon ventured.

Teal eyes observed the trio coolly. "Angry? I should be thanking you. You could have left me without any badges. And where would that leave me? Stranded on an island, for sure." She shrugged. "I prefer this outcome. Did you all at least pass that phase?"

The trio nodded. "We all became Hunters," Kurapika replied.

"Good. Because I would have kicked all of your butts to next Tuesday if you hadn't got a result from leaving me behind." She cocked her head. "So, why are you all here?"

"We're here to visit a friend who came to the hospital yesterday," Gon replied.

Ponzu glanced at the floor buttons. "Third floor, huh? Your friend must be in bad shape if they're in the ICU."

"Hopefully she's not hurt too bad," Gon replied hopefully.

"I hope so too," Ponzu replied. The elevator then stopped at the third floor with a ding, and the doors opened. "Take care, you three."

"Bye," Gon waved. Leorio also waved, while Kurapika nodded.

When they asked at the nurse's station for room Asterra's room, they were led to a room in the corner of the ward. The room had a single bed where Asterra slept, surrounded by an IV pole, screens that showed numbers and an EKG, and a cabinet. Her arms had black sleeves on them, with a little hole cut in the inside of the left elbow to make room for an IV port. A bag currently hung from a pole above her head. There was a sofa and another chair in the room; Kikiri was curled up into a ball on the former, which was as close as he could be without lying on the hospital bed. Menchi was sitting in the chair, checking something on her phone. She then noticed the trio and walked to the door to meet them.

"Hi, Menchi-san," Gon greeted. "Is Asterra…okay? It's never good when someone has a tube in them."

"IV," Kurapika corrected.

"She's doing better, but not great," Menchi replied.

"What happened?" Leorio asked.

"Doctor said Asterra has a case of sepsis, but luckily it was caught in the early stages. Her organs are fine as far as they can see, and everything's still working strong. Dr. Larington—the doctor taking care of Asterra—thinks that it's a toss-up. Asterra's clearly exhausted, but she's also fitter than the average person." She gestured at the door.

"Has she woken up yet?" Gon asked.

"Not yet." The woman looked toward the sleeping girl with carefully blank eyes. "You're free to enter, but you won't be getting much out of her."

"By the way, what are you doing here?" Leorio asked.

Menchi turned back towards the trio. "Hunter Association rules. We're supposed to follow exam applicants from start to finish—make sure their corpses get back to their families, if need be. That's why Satotz made sure you were okay while sleeping, Gon, and why I'll be staying with Asterra until she wakes up."

"We'll leave her in your capable hands, then," Kurapika added. "I don't think there's much more we can do here. Shall we go back to the hotel?"

The other two nodded.

"Thanks, Menchi-san. We'll try again tomorrow." Gon gave a slight bow.

"Take care," she waved back, then entered Asterra's room again.

"So that's that," Kurapika murmured.

"Leorio, what's sepsis?" Gon asked.

"Basically your immune system goes nuts and causes an inflammatory response within the whole body, not just against the injury," Leorio explained. "It's not pretty—blood pressure drops, the body doesn't get enough blood in the right places and organs fail."

"Oh," Gon frowned. "That's…not something you get better from quickly, is it?"

"Not really."

Gon made a contemplative sound. "I want to go help Killua as soon as possible, but I don't want to leave Asterra behind…"

"You could be wasting your time if you wait for her to wake up," Kurapika suggested.

Gon cocked his head. "Why?"

"I don't find it likely that she would willingly go help Killua. There's no advantage of her doing so."

"But she'd be helping a friend."

"There's a couple of premises in that statement that I don't agree with," the blonde replied. As he stated his arguments, he used his fingers to count them off. "One—the assumption that she thinks of Killua as a friend. She released a fair bit of malice when Illumi was hounding Killua, I'll admit, but that doesn't mean she'll risk life and limb for him. Two—the assumption that she is motivated to action by the idea of helping someone without receiving anything in return because it's the 'right thing to do.' I highly doubt that's the case. "

"He's got a point, Gon." Leorio leaned against the wall. "You heard what happened with her, Kurapika, and me on the island. And she even told me on the airship that she wasn't a charity. Asterra doesn't exactly play by the same rules as us."

The Whale Island native frowned. "I know Asterra's different—she feels a lot more like Killua more than you or Kurapika. But back on the island, she helped me get out of a sticky situation. And Satotz said that when Illumi threatened to kill me, she was one of the people who stood between Illumi and the door.

"She's different, but not that different. We should at least ask her if she wants to come with before leaving to get Killua."

Leorio groaned, while Kurapika simply sighed. Neither attempted to argue, though, since it would be like trying to move a mountain with a toothpick. Gon's mind was set; they would not be leaving until the Whale Island native got an answer from Asterra.

=o=o=o=

_She knows these clothes; every thread of the robe feels familiar, feels like home against her skin._

_She knows this shade of blue spreading above shimmering, swaying grass—the exact shade on sunny days that makes all the cloudy, rainy, otherwise downright miserable days worthwhile._

_And she knows the laughter that surrounds her, the sound of kin young and old. Of barking dogs, nickering horses, bleating of the sheep and goat grazing nearby. Of Mom and Dad laughing, both of them surrounding her in a bear hug. Kikiri joins in the hug by elongating his body enough to encompass all of his human family._

" _Congratulations! Congratulations! We're so proud of you! You've done so well!"_

Thank the Spirits. I'm home. _She does not have to square her shoulders, keep her back tense any more. She is safe, safe, safe._

_**It is much too early for you to dream of peace.** _

_She ignores the voice. She's come this far, she's—_

_**You think you deserve peace? You, who have squandered all your mother and father have worked to give you? You, who have squandered all I have done?** _

_The voice is cold, downright derisive._

_**You dare lose yourself in dreams? Such childish acts you put on. Wake up, then, child, and ask—just what has that success come at the cost of?** _

_What is this voice that demands her attention, draws it away from what she cherishes? She has become a Hunter. She has succeeded. She does not have to continue another year of Training, another year of the separation that she is sick of. Time is hers now—hers to chase strange dreams, to uncover the reason her body is riddled with crystals. More importantly, it is hers to spend with her parents she has not seen in six years._

_Time is hers now, and she will be damned if she tolerates this intrusion._

_She asks her parents to wait a moment before they drag her off to a homecooked meal made by her aunt, then turns behind her towards the voice that calls her child out of contempt rather than love. Behind her, the grass ends, the green giving way to black mere inches away from her heels. Beyond that there is nothing. But within the void something is glowing, trying to manifest itself._

_**All was peaceful before you ended up here. You were hidden before you let them fill you with drugs, riddle you with needles and tubes. You were given away to avoid falling into this situation, to make better use of my gifts, and see where you are now. Pathetic.** _

_Drugs? Tubes? Needles? What is that…orb talking about?_

_The glow grows stronger, the edges and details crisper. That thing is coming into focus, that—_

_Half a face?_

_There is half a skull floating in the dark. There is enough flesh on it—skin darker than hers, half-formed lips—to call it half a face, but only barely. That half a face is surrounded by floating shards of bone, and strands of limp white hair hang from its scalp._

_**But what has occurred is now done. Your incompetence has played its role in your story. You are not in a place where you can dream your troubles away, child. So run. Fight. Struggle in the mud for that pitiful spark you call your life. Claw your way to the right to hope.** _

_Pain lanced up her shoulder from her left bicep, and she grasped the area out of reflex. Warm blood dribbles through the threads of her robe, but the blood is black and putrid, and it threatens to eat away her arm. She opens her mouth to scream, whirls towards where her kin were, they would help her, heal—_

_Her kin are gone._

_The people, the land, the sky—all the vibrant colors have been replaced by black, as if painted over violently with the thick brush of a frustrated artist. It makes her wonder, makes her doubt if they had even been there to start with._

_She whirls towards the floating, glowing skull once more. Its silver eye gleams lifelessly at her._

_**Because, child…the hunt has begun. And you are the prey.** _

=o=o=o=

**Day 2 after the Hunter Exam, afternoon**

Gon, Leorio, and Kurapika entered the room. Menchi greeted them with a simple wave, while the nurse simply nodded and continued to take note of her vital signs that beeped across the screen.

"How's she doing?" Leorio asked.

"Pretty good, from the looks of it, actually. The doctor was surprised at how much she'd stabilized over the night. At this rate, she might—"

There was a sharp gasp from the bed and the sound of the heart monitor's beeping sped up. All heads snapped towards the sound.

"Asterra?" Kikiri ventured.

One shallow breath, a second, then a third.

…

And then Asterra was waking up with the fury of a tempest.

Her eyes flashed open and left arm jolted. Fingers ripped at the IV in her arm, and the nurse threw herself across to stop her as she slammed a red button at the head of the bed. She then hollered, "Code violet, room 12!"

The Resca's foot flailed and sped toward the nurse's face in a kick. Leorio dived forward, slamming his entire weight onto the Resca's legs. The initial blow knocked the breath from his lungs, making him swear at the raw strength Asterra still had despite being in the ICU, and he struggled to pin her legs down.

Asterra's unseeing eyes flitted about like a those of a madman. They heart monitor beeped frantically, as if even the machine itself was panicking at the Resca's heart rate that was climbing, climbing, climbing.

"Asterra! Asterra!" Kikiri hollered into her ear. "Wake up! It's just a dream! It's not real!"

Two male nurses rushed in; Gon and Kurapika pressed themselves against the wall to make room. One nurse held her torso down and another helped Leorio hold her legs. Dr. Larington was next. One look at Asterra and he calmly said to the nurse outside the room, "Lorazepam, 2mg, IM injection stat."

Another nurse ran in with a syringe that she injected into Asterra's thigh, then quickly retreated. The girl continued to thrash like a cornered animal, nearly kicking Leorio off her legs and almost clawing one of the male nurse's eyes out. The struggle continued for several minutes, with Asterra roaring in a foreign language, harsh syllables tearing into the air and reverberating through the heads of everyone in the room. Eventually, though, her movements became more and more sluggish; her limbs became limp and her eyes closed. The heart monitor stopped its shrill alarm.

And then, she was asleep.

Leorio looked toward the other nurses. "Is it over?"

"Looks like it," Dr. Laningston nodded. "Patient sedated. Thanks, everyone."

Each nurse and Leorio carefully let go of the part they were holding down. One of the male nurses patted Leorio on the back, muttering "Thanks, man."

"Make sure to monitor her heart rate and breathing," Dr. Laningston said to the nurse who had been taking note of Asterra's vitals before the incident. The nurse nodded. The physician then turned to Menchi and the three new Hunters. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you all to leave."

Kikiri did not budge; Dr. Larington did not press the issue. The Hunters in the room nodded and the four quickly exited. Menchi leaned against the doorframe like an individual taking sentry, her green eyes sympathetic. "Not very lucky with your hospital visits, are you?"

"Well, she woke up," Gon offered half-heartedly.

"Not in a state of mind to answer questions, though," Kurapika added. He then noticed Leorio, who was staring into the hospital room with furrowed brows. "What's the matter?"

"While on the airship, Asterra said something about things beginning with people in white that healed others," he murmured. "Is that what made her act like that?"

"All the nurses wear colored scrubs, and the doctor came in after she started struggling," Kurapika pointed out. "She could have simply acted out of fear—people act irrationally when they wake up in unfamiliar situations."

"Yeah, maybe…" Leorio trailed off, hands in pockets. He did not seem convinced by the Kurta's statement.

"Let's try again later," Gon suggested. "Third time's the charm, right?"

=o=o=o=

**Four hours later**

Asterra's second awakening was less eventful than the first. It was a slow and gradual one, as if she were carefully dusting away the cobwebs of lethargy associated with dreamless sleep.

The first thing that registered in her mind was the smell—that too-clean smell of antiseptic. Next sensations were tactile: an ache that begged her not to move, that slight sense of intrusion at the inside of her left elbow, cloth that was not bandages on her arms, and cool sheets surrounding her body. Auditory stimuli joined the fray next—beeping, footsteps scurrying, low voices speaking in words she could not make out—and she knew where she was from experience.

_Hospital._

As she blinked the blurriness out of her vision there was a yelp of excitement. She felt something bounding across her covers with light steps. In the next moment something furry curled up around her neck, and she leaned into the warm, reassuring presence. Her tongue felt thick, and it moved slowly as if slightly atrophied by disuse. "Hey buddy. Hey."

"Good morning, sleeping beauty."

The girl blinked once more and looked around the room, at first at Menchi in the corner then to the IV port in her elbow. It was a familiar sight—the doctors had stuck one in her fairly often when her nodules had ruptured, to prevent infection while the wounds healed. Didn't mean she enjoyed having one, though. "Menchi? Why are you here?"

"Hunter Association rules. We make sure to follow through with our applicants to the end of the exam; that's why you were asked for next of kin on the application forms." The young woman put her phone away. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," she replied. It was the truth, but not the whole truth; the Resca couldn't shake off the heavy feeling that sat on her chest, the voice that urged her to get up and moving because something, something _bad_ , was coming for her. "How long have I been asleep?"

"It's been two days since the exam ended." The woman pointed toward the doorway. "They just came around with the breakfast. You want some?"

She shook her head. "Not hungry. What happened while I was sleeping?"

"Quite a bit, actually. The applicants who passed were given a debrief on their new status as Hunters and what comes with the position. There was a debate about the legitimacy of Killua's disqualification, but it was shut down. And Gon had a showdown with Illumi—Gittarackur's real name—and claimed that he kidnapped Killua. Broke Illumi's wrist while doing it."

Asterra found herself smiling at that.

"You should also know that you've officially passed the Hunter exam, which makes you a Hunter. Normally I'd be giving you your license and the spiel, but I'll wait until you're in a proper condition first. Don't want to overload you."

"Thanks," Asterra said.

There was a knock at the door then, "Ah, you're awake," a voice said. "May I come in?"

"Dr. Larington," Menchi said.

The man who entered was in his fifties with a square jaw whose bushy mustache looked like a caterpillar itching to crawl off his face. "My name is Micaeus Larington, doctor of this ward. This is our resident physician, Dr. Doran Enta." He gestured at the younger man, clean-shaven with wire-rimmed glasses. "How are you doing today?"

"I've been better," she replied.

He nodded empathetically. "Now that you're awake, I'm going to ask a couple of questions. I promise I'm not insulting your intelligence, I just need to know how you're faring."

Asterra nodded.

"Can you tell me your name and date of birth?"

"Asterra Yun Resca; December 27, 1983."

"Do you know where you are?"

"A hospital, from the looks of it. Can't tell you which country though."

"That's a good start." He held his hand up, fingers outstretched. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Five."

The simple questions continued for another minute, then Dr. Larington asked for permission to listen to her heart and lungs, as well take her pulse. Asterra acquiesced, breathing as the doctor directed as the cold steel pressed against her clothes to listen to the thumping within her chest. When he took her pulse, she noticed how his nails had been reduced to nubs and cuticles that threatened to bleed with the wrong movement. The life of the doctor must have been stressful indeed.

"Your heart is still beating rather quickly," the doctor commented as he pulled his fingers away from her wrist. "Other than that, everything sounds fine. You're doing well."

"What happened to me, exactly? I don't remember anything from after the Hunter Exam."

"You had a case of sepsis that was caught early." The man saw her puzzled look. "Sepsis is when the body launches a body-wide attack instead of just focusing on the infection. The result is not enough blood reaching the organs, which could cause failure. It usually originates from an infection."

Asterra touched her left triceps, which was covered by dressing.

The doctor nodded. "Precisely."

"But I kept it clean and well-bandaged."

"It wasn't entirely your fault. The blade used to stab you had been coated with a poison and also stabbed into the corpse of a decaying animal."

Asterra bit her tongue to keep from swearing. That was a technique designed with death as the ultimate result, all right. She had not expected such…overkill from Mouse.

"We don't know exactly how the poison works, but it seemed to have an effect of making it difficult for the wound to close and also made your immune system less effective in the wounded tissue. Your Dokujo mentioned that there was quite a lot of blood after you were stabbed."

She nodded, then looked at the fluid-filled bag hanging above her head. The label on it read "piperacillin-tazobactam" in typed letters. "What am I being given?"

He glanced at the bag then turned his attention back to her. "You're currently taking a 'broad-spectrum antibiotic,' or something that kills many kinds of bacteria. If you'd like, I can ask the pharmacist to tell you more about it."

"That's fine," she shook her head. _I think I've had it before._ The name sounded familiar; she remembered doctors throwing the word "pip-tazo" around when she was younger. They had usually given her that or something-penem every time a large amount of her nodules had ruptured simultaneously.

"Okay. Any other questions?"

"When will I be able to move around again?"

"You're doing very well for a patient who came in unconscious with sepsis. Basically, our plan is to keep you here until everything has been stable for a two to three days. It could be days or weeks; I don't know for sure."

Asterra nodded. It sounded similar to what had been said to her in previous hospital visits when she was younger. Hopefully her unusually fast healing would help get her out of here quickly. Thealers back in Mereta had always marveled how even the deepest of wounds in her skin seemed to close completely within days, leaving the area fully functional.

"Any other questions?"

The Resca shook her head.

"Very well. Please let any of us know if you need anything." The older doctor nodded and exited the room, resident physician in tow.

=o=o=o=

**Day 3 after the Hunter Exam, Morning**

Three hours after waking up and halfway through a meal of flatbread with vegetables and chicken marinated in a simple sauce, Asterra was surprised by the visitors at her door calling her name. Menchi had just left the room to grab lunch, and it usually took longer for her to come back.

She placed a hand over her mouth as she finished chewing. "What are you three doing here?"

"Hello to you too," Kurapika replied dryly.

"Asterra—manners! That's not how you greet people," Kikiri hissed, thumping the Resca on the ear. The girl scowled slightly in response to the reprimand.

Gon, on the other hand, paid Asterra's question no mind. "You're awake!" Gon chirped as he entered the room, flanked by Leorio and Kurapika. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than before," she admitted, setting down the flatbread—a surprisingly tasty thing for hospital fare—ruefully. "You haven't answered my question."

"We just wanted to make sure you were okay," the boy replied.

A quick glance at Kurapika and Leorio revealed that the former could care less if she were awake from the way his body was turned away from her, leaving his shoulder facing her. Leorio, on the other hand, seemed somewhat concerned from the way his body was turned slightly towards her.

"As opposed to leaving?" she questioned.

"We can't just leave you here," Gon said.

"Actually, you could. We teamed up to pass the Hunter Exam; we've all passed. Why wait? You've got your own things to do, don't you?"

Leorio shifted his weight.

"You're not wrong," Gon replied. "But there's something we all wanted to do before going our separate ways."

"Which is?"

"We're going to go save Killua."

She took a moment to process the words. "Save him? How?"

"We know he lives in Kukuroo Mountain with his family."

"That's a quarter of the battle," Asterra replied dryly. "And who's 'we?'"

"Leorio and Kurapika."

"So…you intend to storm a hold of assassins with a band of three, a broken arm, and no intel…? What makes you think you can even get into this place, much less rescue the little git?"

Gon's jaw tightened into something between a pout and a determined look. "I don't care. But they took Killua against his will, and they don't treat him well. I'm going to get him back. It's what friends do."

She raised an eyebrow. This boy was willing to dive headfirst into a metaphorical viper's nest and go that far for a person he had known for maybe two weeks? She glanced from Gon to Leorio and Kurapika; from the steel and fire in their eyes, their minds were made up as well. Whatever Gon had in him, apparently it was infectious.

"But it's always good to have more people; that's why I was wondering if you wanted to come too."

She stared at the boy, eyes widening with surprise.

This situation was insane. This boy was insane.

Asterra had no obligation to them: she had passed the Hunter Exam, seen it through to the end, and they were not kin. There was no reason for her to help, to get killed over this foolish quest. Even if she were to go, who knew how long it would take? Every moment she spent on this endeavor would mean a longer time away from Mereta, from home, and a longer delay in seeing her family again.

…

"Gon, let's go. It's no use," Kurapika called from the doorway; apparently the Resca had been silent for a little too long. "She's too wrapped up in her own issues to help others."

Maybe it was the sense of dread that she felt in the back of her mind like a guillotine hanging over her neck. Maybe it was the illness that still lurked in her veins. Maybe it was because she had been interrupted in the middle of a tasty meal. Regardless, her walls were cracked and that sentence wormed its way through, striking a sore spot. "Fuck off, peanut gallery," she snapped. "Don't put words in my mouth when you don't even know me that well."

"I know your type well enough," The blonde glared at her coldly, arms crossed. "They take without regard, and their greed destroys families."

"Okay, ease up you two." Leorio placed himself between the two quarreling parties.

Feral eyes of sea-green met grey ones evenly. "If you're trying to recruit me, blondie, you're doing a shitty job of it."

"I'm not the one trying to recruit you, Gon is."

"And you're—"

"STOP IT!" Gon's voice sliced into the argument, causing Asterra and Kurapika to jolt. "This isn't helping! Every second you two spend arguing is one more second Killua is being forced to kill people! I want to get him off of Kukuroo Mountain as soon as possible; I'll go by myself if it means doing that! Stop making this about yourselves; this is about Killua!"

Kurapika's mouth clamped shut.

"If you're in such a hurry, then leave," the Resca replied bluntly. She gestured at the IV in her arm. "I'm in no position to stop you."

Gon's brown eyes widened, and they took on a desolate light—like the eyes of a kicked puppy. "What?"

"See, I told you—" the Kurta started.

Asterra forced herself into the conversation before Kurapika could say any more. "I'll meet you there."

Gon cocked his head.

_**Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why are you making such promises?** _

The chorus of reasons not to do what she had said were deafening, but a tiny voice still managed to writhe its way to the forefront. It was a voice fueled by something dark and cold unfurling in her stomach, something that had been simmering ever since hearing the words Illumi had used to crush Killua by filling the boy's head with dark whispers.

Asterra knew that some families were dysfunctional. In fact, she was probably blessed when it came to the kin she had, and the bonds she had with them. Resca culture viewed blood ties seriously; having a working, healthy (but not necessarily loving) relationship with each of them was critical to surviving in the harsh conditions of Mereta, after all. There were acceptable ways and unacceptable ways to treat family, and Illumi had most definitely crossed a line with how he had spoken to Killua. How he spoke—no, preached—in a way that crushed hopes and individuality and condemned Killua for wanting more from life.

Even from observing such a short interaction, she knew in her gut that what Killua and Illumi had was a bond that had festered beyond healing, like a gangrenous arm. And there was only one way to fix such a state to prevent the infection from spreading to the entire body.

Amputation.

"It's not my place to poke in other's family business…but this is an exception. I agree with you that Killua needs to be separated from that brother of his," she said simply, drawing the blankets around her shoulders. "The doctor doesn't know when I'll be up and moving again—just said he'd rather keep me hear until everything's stable. Could be days, could be weeks. That's time Killua doesn't have. Leorio, does your cellphone work in other countries?"

"I got an international plan, so yeah."

"Then give me your cellphone number. I don't have a cellphone, so I'll call from a public phone as soon as I'm fit to travel to see how things are going. We'll have to play by ear from there. Where's this Kukuroo Mountain?"

"It's in the Republic of Padokea," Leorio replied. "The blimp flight takes a day or so, then we travel by train. Two and a half to three days."

Asterra nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. If you do end up rescuing him before I call you, call the hospital and let me know."

"Got it! We'll go get tickets then," Gon chirped. His body was brimming with energy, as if he were itching to get going, and his eyes held a gleeful light. "Get better soon!"

"See you there," Leorio nodded.

Kurapika didn't even look at her as he exited the room.

"Safe travels," she replied, and the trio left. Gon excitedly chattered about when the next blimp flight would be, and she could hear their voices down the hall for a few more seconds until it was swallowed up by the other sounds of the ward.

Asterra leaned back against the pillows of her hospital bed with a sigh. _What have I gotten myself into?_

She wasn't accustomed to this.

Asterra had always acted out of necessity, for her own sake. When she had needed something during Training, she made the appropriate contacts and verbal agreements to meet her objectives then exchanged her services for another's. She was not obliged to do anything past what the agreement had contained, and once their association was over, it was over. No strings attached. Granted, there were people that she frequently interacted with, but no obligations existed between them outside of the contracts.

In Training, when someone had wronged her, she made sure they never crossed her again, crushing and maiming them, like the brute in the forest, or that Beanu spearman. And if they had come for her again—like so many Trainees had—she had crushed them again, and again, and again until they eventually gave up and left her alone. It had taught her that one could only take being broken and bruised so many times before pride caved into survival instincts.

She liked these methods, for they kept her world simple—"her and her own" vs "them," so to speak. Minimizing the "her and her own" as much as possible kept her free and flexible, a lone agent able to do what she wanted, whenever she wanted.

But now, Asterra keenly felt herself being moved by invisible ties, by contract-less obligations that had no time limit. Like Gon asking her to come help Killua, even though the Hunter Exam was finished and it was time to move on from this association. Meeting new people was making her feel unfamiliar emotions, bringing about unusual reactions to unexpected circumstances…like saying she would help Gon rescue Killua, who she had only just met and barely knew anything about, from a stronghold of assassins.

It was new. It was curious, a new phenomenon for the scientific mind in her to poke and prod. It was also unnerving as hell, because this…thing had the capability to become very messy, to shatter the simplicity of her current life. It made her a little queasy just thinking about it.

Kikiri nuzzled her hand and she started to stroke him along his back. "I'm glad you're going," he purred.

"I feel like I've screwed up," she replied bluntly.

"Why? Nothing's even started yet."

"Yeah…yet." She pulled her knees to her chest and placed her chin on the joints. "But I feel like I've just walked into a mine field without a metal detector. I had everything planned out once the Exam finished, but now...I don't know what I'm going to get pulled into."

"So you're taking a little detour. That's not a bad thing. It's a little scary and bad stuff might happen, sure, but you also might see something cool too."

"But what if I don't survive the detour?"

"You will," Kikiri said firmly. "You always have, and you always will. Maybe it won't be the coolest, most elegant way to do it, but that doesn't matter. You just have to do your best, and it'll all work out."

She rubbed the back of his head. "Spirits, I wish I had your optimism."

"It's not something you have, it's something you choose to be."

"All right, smartass. Point taken." Asterra then picked up the flatbread and continued to eat. At least that was still simple to do.

=o=o=o=

Dr. Larington returned to his office, informing his colleagues on the way that he had to step out for a moment to quickly grab lunch but would still be available by text. After leaving his white coat on his chair he proceeded to exit the hospital through one of the back doors of the hospital and make his way to a public phone. The phone was several blocks away from the hospital, located in a shopping district he frequented to grab a quick lunch. He still planned to buy a sandwich from a convenience store—he needed an excuse after all—but it could wait until after this call.

Luckily, the public phones in this country were located in convenient booths that provided privacy to the one making the call. He entered one such booth smoothly and dug around in his wallet for change—in this age of credit cards and smartphones, loose change was a rather hard find. Fortunately, he had some, and moments later each coin was being inserted into the coin slot on the payphone. He didn't need much—most ten minutes at the most, if even that.

He had never expected to dial this number in this day and age, so at first the numbers were murky. But then he remembered—remembered from his medical school days about the number that promised to make many, many problems go away as long as it was provided a certain bit of information. A certain bit of information about a certain kind of people with a certain kind of physical characteristic. And Dr. Larington desperately needed a problem to go away. He only had a couple more years to retirement, and he wanted them to go smoothly, thank you very much.

"Estermony Pawn Shop, this is Ertan speaking. How may I help you today?" The voice that answered his call was young and male. It was still midday, so the cheeriness didn't quite sound forced.

"I'm interested in selling some jewelry. Could you put me through to Dasne?"

"Dasne's currently in a meeting with a Beruvian client; may I take a note?"

Dr. Larington remembered this part—this Dasne fellow was always in a meeting with a Beruvian client, no matter what time of day one called. That was the signal to follow up with a second reply. He dabbed at a bead of sweat coming down his forehead with a handkerchief, then continued, "Tell Dasne that I have a piece from Garoné that'll be in demand during the spring."

There was a pause on the other line, and then Ertan continued. "Understood. I'm going to transfer you to another line; please hold for a moment."

The cheezy elevator music didn't even have time to play for two notes before another voice answered. It was garbled and didn't sound quite human—as if the individual was trying to disguise their voice. "This is Dasne. Ertan said you're interested in selling a piece."

"That's right. Well, to be more precise I have information regarding a—"

The voice cut him off. "What kind?"

Dr. Larington took a shaky breath, then replied in an equally shaky tone, "A Lariat with turquoise stones."

A moment of silence. Then the previously brusque tone was actually…purring?

"I think we can work something out," the voice replied, and Dr. Larington could've sworn that he could almost hear the other person's lips curl into a Cheshire cat grin. "What time could you meet for an appraisal consult?"

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this 20-page beast. It certainly took long enough to write XD.**

**Note: For the purposes of keeping my sanity while writing this fic, I am using a timeline I found online. Said timeline is based on a panel that showed a real-life calendar of a month in 1999 during the York New Arc. Seems like a good enough place to start, hence the reason Asterra was born in 1983 for the purposes of this fic. Because timelines 3**

**As always, thanks for reading to the end!**

**-Rhyss**


	34. Foreign, but Familiar

**Hi everyone! Happy belated Thanksgiving to those celebrated.**

* * *

**Day 4 after the Hunter Exam**

"This place doesn't look any different from the other room," Kikiri remarked as Asterra placed her folded clothes into the cupboard next to her.

He wasn't wrong—she had been carted to this room in the same bed she had been using the past several days, the configuration and color scheme was similar to the other room, and the furniture was identical. Despite the similarities, though, this was the fourth floor of the hospital—the general ward, where those that were deemed no longer in critical condition were transferred in order to make room for patients in far more dire straits. It was also a room for two people, from the curtains that separated into halves and offered the illusion of privacy.

The curtains that surrounded the other bed were pulled back, revealing another bed. Beyond it was more furniture, where clothes were piled precariously on top of a bag. Next to said bag was a large yellow…hat. Yes, that was most likely a hat—it had the shape of the ridiculously large and ornate hats Asterra had seen religious leaders wear, although why anyone would wear such a thing to give up all hope of stealth was completely beyond her. Then again, people did do unpractical things in the name of tradition.

"What do you think the other person's like?" Kikiri chirped.

"Well enough to not be carted around in her bed everywhere," she responded, stretching. Her limbs were starting to itch, the prelude to a case of cabin fever sure to manifest if she did not work off the excess energy that had built up over the past four days.

Kikiri rolled his eyes. "I meant personality-wise."

"As long as they're not preachy, I don't really care." She did not need another Kurapika in her proximity; one righteous thickhead was enough. "It's not like I'm going to be here long, anyway."

=o=o=o=

The other person inhabiting the room turned out to be a girl about her age that harbored a great love for small animals, from the way her eyes lit up when she saw Kikiri while he was sleeping in Asterra's lap.

"He's so cute!" The teen's voice was only a couple pitches away from a squeal. "Can I pet him?"

Kikiri, being a glutton for attention, immediately perked up at the mention of being stroked. He bounded out of Asterra's lap and sat up at the corner of her bed, nearest the newcomer. "Yes please!"

The fact he could talk only made her eyes light up even more. "Oh, a Dokujo!" She rubbed the side of his neck.

Asterra always failed to grasp the timing at which to introduce herself to a person who was clearly more interested in Kikiri than her. Luckily, the teen currently fawning over Kikiri looked up. Her eyes were a dark teal that had a warm glow to them. "I'm Ponzu, by the way. Sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier." The turquoise-haired girl stuck out her hand.

The name was familiar—it was the applicant Leorio had been after. The Resca took the hand in a handshake. "Asterra. Just got moved here an hour ago. You're my roommate?" She gestured with her chin at the other bed.

"Yep," Ponzu nodded. Then, after a few moments of furrowed brows, she asked, "Weren't you in the Hunter Exam with Gon and the others?"

She felt the folds of wariness wrapping around her shoulders with the familiarity of a well-worn cloak. "…I was."

"I thought so! Gon mentioned you'd been in the ICU. I'm glad you're doing better."

"Why? You barely even know me."

Ponzu chuckled slightly at that. "So? Doesn't mean I can't wish you good will."

Asterra blinked at that but was spared from giving a response by a newcomer.

"New room and making friends already, Asterra?" Menchi sauntered into the room with several plastic bags. She set the bags on the sofa, then took out a colorful tin, removed the lid and held it out to the Resca. "I bought the cookies I was talking about yesterday."

Asterra's eager eyes seemed to gobble up the contents of the tin. "This region's specialties?"

"The one and only. Go on then."

Asterra reached into the tin and grabbed a cookie about the size of her palm. The treat was humble in appearance, made of oats and dry fruits that shone with the dull light of a honey glaze. One bite was enough to savor how the oats gave texture, how the honey gave it the right amount of sweetness, and how the slightly sour dried fruit gave a small explosion of tartness on the tongue. Menchi had mentioned it was one of the most popular snacks of this country that tourists took back as souvenirs; now she knew why.

Ponzu turned towards the woman. "Wait…aren't you Menchi, one of the Examiners?"

"Yeah," the woman replied, her features softening as Asterra munched away with a satisfied look on her face. She then turned to Ponzu and offered the tin. "Cookie?"

"Yes, please," Ponzu replied as she took a cookie.

"You were in the exam," Menchi stated simply, placing the tin on the cabinet after taking a cookie for herself.

"Yep; I'm Ponzu. Now I'm in that bed over there."

"Pleased to meet you."

"No, the pleasure is mine! I've always wanted the opportunity to speak to a Hunter." Ponzu wasted no time leaping into conversation. She had enough tact to ask a few questions about Menchi herself and her interests, taking care to draw Asterra into the conversation. Even when the Resca became quiet and withdrew into observation mode, a slight question would be sent her way to bring her back in.

Eventually Ponzu steered the conversation towards the Hunter Exam, and advice on passing it. Menchi said it was important to reflect on what was difficult without losing sight of her strengths. Asterra, shockingly, found herself advising Ponzu to make sensible alliances early in the phases. Self-reliance and being a competent individual were important, yes, but even she could not discount how many times she had been helped by her companions.

The number of cookies in the tin steadily decreased as the conversation meandered from food to homelands.

"Where's home for you two?" Menchi asked.

"Padokea," Ponzu replied. "Beekeeper Valley."

"Sanaar," Asterra replied.

"Really? Where?" Ponzu exclaimed.

"Mereta," Asterra said hesitantly.

"Mereta, huh? My grandfather's a Tafta. I've always wanted to visit Etori and see where he grew up, but Mereta looks cool too."

Sanaar, formal name Sanaar Republic, was a modern title for an old coalition. It consisted of five city-states, each one presided over by a clan; all city-states shared a similar language and certain cultural aspects, and they collectively considered themselves Sanaarese. However, each clan was quick to express the cultural nuances that made them unique. The roots of regionalism and clan politics ran very, very deep.

The Tafta clan was one such clan that governed the coastal city-state of Etori. The clan was renowned for their seafaring, business acumen, and skill in diplomacy. Because of it, they were more connected to the rest of the world and served as a gateway to Sanaar. Etori had multiple ports that bustled in trade and was home to the only international airport in Sanaar. Its status as a well-known tax haven drew investors and the like in. In addition, Tafta often emigrated to other countries; it was a well-uttered joke that clan members lived everywhere but Etori. International marriages were common as well, and many people in the world had some Taftan blood in them because of the Tafta's penchant for marrying outside the clan. Asterra herself was half-Taftan by her father and had visited the city-state before.

"Where did your grandfather grow up?" Kikiri asked.

"Darae," Ponzu replied.

Asterra nodded. "The ocean's nice there. Best time to visit would be in May—summer weather without the crowd. Also, don't go to the fancy restaurants—the shacks near the port have fresher seafood for better prices."

"I can second that," Menchi chimed in. "The mussels there are some of the best damn mollusks I've had. Those fishermen know how to work garlic and white wine."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind," Ponzu beamed. "Thanks for the tip!"

"If it's about food—anytime. Best part of good food is sharing it so others can try it," Menchi replied.

=o=o=o=

**Day 6 after the Hunter Exam**

The cool chill of the stethoscope left the skin of her back, and Dr. Enta stepped back as she pulled her shirt down again. "You've made a stunning recovery," the physician remarked. "We'd like to keep you here for one more day just to make sure everything's okay. But you'll likely be discharged tomorrow afternoon."

 _Thank the Spirits, it's about damn time._ She would go insane if she was kept here any longer. "Understood."

"Let the nurses know if you need anything."

"I will," the Resca nodded. "Thank you."

The doctor left the room, and Ponzu gave her a thumbs up. "Looks like we're leaving the same day."

"Looks like it." Asterra then stood up and grabbed her wallet. "I need to go make some calls. There's public phones in the main area, right?"

"You don't have a cell phone?"

"No."

"You want to use mine?"

"They're international calls. Won't that be expensive for you?"

"I got an international plan for the time I'd be at the Hunter Exam." She fished her phone out of her bag. "Here, catch."

"Oh, okay. Thanks," the Resca replied as she caught the rectangular object with both hands. She looked down at the object and realized that it had no number pad, just a screen. "How do I dial?"

"Hit the center button to turn it on. Then swipe to the left and you'll get a keypad."

Asterra followed the directions and got the number screen up. "Got it. I won't be long."

"Actually, feel free to be long. I've got a lot of minutes left over that need using up."

The Resca's mouth curled into a faint smile. "Fair enough. I'll try."

The girl left the room and headed towards a quieter area of the hospital.

First up, Leorio. Her future plans depended on if she needed to go to Kukuroo Mountain or not, so best to figure that out first. She dialed Leorio's number from memory. The phone rang twice, then picked up.

"This is Leorio." The voice sounded…exhausted. What the hell had he been doing?

"It's Asterra," she replied. "You okay?"

"Oh, hey. No, not really. Been better."

Spirits, if a talkative person like Leorio was replying as succinctly as possible, then things certainly must be bad.

"Asterra!" Gon's voice shouted from the background.

"Hang on, let me put you on speaker," Leorio said.

Gon's voice came back, clearer and closer. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. I can walk now," she replied. "Have you gotten the little git out of his house yet?"

"Uhhh…yeah, about that," Leorio replied.

That didn't sound promising. "What?"

"We're going to be a couple of weeks."

" _Weeks?_ "

"Look, it's a long story,"

She shuffled her posture and leaned against a wall. "What's the short version?"

Gon was the one who replied. "Basically, we have to do some physical training to get strong enough to open the front door of the place so we won't be eaten by the gigantic guard dog. Only then can we get to the house and maybe see Killua."

 _What is this, a cartoon series?_ "…You're joking."

"I wish I was," Leorio sighed.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Exactly how heavy is this door?"

"The smallest doors are four tons."

 _Four tons?! Spirits help me._ _Can I even lift half a ton? Is it worth even going?_

_**It was a foolish promise in the first place. Why go?** _

Apparently she was quiet for a moment too long, as Leorio called out, "Asterra?"

"I'm still here," she replied. "Just processing what you said." _I gave them my word. No going back._

_**Once a fool, always a fool.** _

Asterra ran a hand through her hair. "All right. Well, doctor said I'd be discharged tomorrow. I'll make my way to Padokea then."

"Sounds good. See you here."

"See you soon, Asterra!"

The line clicked off, and she started to dial the next number.

She dialed Mom's phone number first, since she was usually glued to the device and most likely to pick up. But after a few minutes of ringing it went to voicemail and her mother's voice told her to leave a message. That meant Mom was either working and therefore the phone was silenced, or she was sleeping because she was in a different time zone.

Rescan was easy to slip into. It was the tongue of home, and it also provided privacy; each clan spoke their own dialect of Sanaarese, but they were similar enough that any speaker of Sanaarese could understand each other reasonably well. But despite the Taftan diaspora, Sanaarese was not commonly encountered outside of the Sanaar Republic. " **It's Asterra. Just wanted to let you know I passed the exam. I won't be going home straight away though; I'm taking a detour to help some people I met during the exam. Not sure how long it'll take—maybe a couple of weeks—but I'll let you know when I'm on route to Uncle's. Ride safe and see you soon**."

When she tried Dad's number, she got the same result. So she left a similar message and proceeded to call the next number—Nisk's _kobriyet_ —to send a message to her uncle.

Mereta did not have telephone towers or wires (or much infrastructure, for that matter), so in order to cope with modernization each district or cluster of villages had a dedicated telephone that could be reached within a day's ride. People there took calls and dispatched messages typically by bird or horse messenger to the village the message was for. It was a slow system, yes, but Mereta was not industrialized and not many left the city-state except to travel for the Hunter Exam, so it was good enough. The strategist in her thought that the _kobriyet_ wasn't a great idea, though. Attacking it would be a convenient way to cut off outside communications and thus isolate Mereta. Not that she expected the city-state to be attacked anytime soon, but regardless it was something that she imagined each time she called the _kobriyet_.

The phone rang three times before an older female voice spoke. " **Kobriyet for District Yatretzen, your purpose for calling?"**

" **Calling to leave a message for Tolvic Gavej Resca of Nisk,"** she replied.

" **Proceed with your message."**

She repeated the same message as her parents for the third time, making sure to leave space between phrases and give the clerk time to transcribe her message. The clerk verified her message, which Asterra affirmed. The clerk then asked, " **Will you be leaving a callback number?"**

" **No. I'll call again when I have a phone.** "

" **Understood. Ride safe.** " The phone then clicked off.

After that, she attempted to call for blimp tickets. Emphasis on attempted, because apparently it was impossible to book tickets over the phone in this country. In Sanaar, she had been able to reserve a ticket via phone several days before the flight, then pay for the tickets once she had reached the airport. But no matter how many times she attempted to explain this to the customer service representative, he refused to sell her the ticket. Claimed that they could only do that for customers leaving from the Sanaar Republic and other countries that had "developing" status tacked onto them like some badge of shame.

Asterra gave up then, fed up with the snooty attitude that people (this representative included) sometimes used when they found out she was from Sanaar. She bid the customer representative farewell, ended the call, then hissed, " _Beshkar._ "

"Calling someone a poisoned well isn't going to help you here," Kikiri chided.

It felt so good to swear, though…especially after nonproductive phone calls. "I need to get to a computer," she sighed. "Apparently that's the only way I can get tickets in this country." She returned the phone to Ponzu with a word of thanks, then went to the computer area.

=o=o=o=

**Fifteen minutes later, hospital common room**

"Spirits, I hate these things."

Asterra was currently two minutes into a glaring contest with a computer screen, a glower on her face.

"I think that one turns it on," Kikiri offered, pointing at a switch with a circle whose top part was interrupted by a dash. "At least it did last time we used Dad's laptop."

"But it's glowing, which means it's on, right? Then why is the screen blank?"

"I don't know! I don't even have the thumbs to type!" Kikiri pouted, wriggling his front paws in front of her. "You're the human!"

"But this thing looks so different from the last time I saw it." The last time Asterra had used a computer, they had been clunkier, their screen portion almost a foot thick as opposed to the sleek things in front of her.

That was when a pale hand reached across from her left and hit one of the small letter keys. Instantly, the machine whirred slightly, and the screen came to life. When Asterra turned towards the source of the hand she saw it was Ponzu.

"It was in sleep mode," the girl explained. "Just hit any key or jiggle the mouse and it'll turn on."

"Oh, thanks." Asterra then turned and squinted at the screen's colorful icons.

After a few moments, Ponzu asked, "What are you trying to do?"

"Book blimp tickets. When I tried to book them by phone and do the pickup and pay in person, the customer rep said they don't do that in this country. Which is weird, because that's how I got the tickets in Sanaar. Same airlines too. They told me to book and pay online." She squinted at the screen, then clicked on the familiar Internet Surveyor icon to pull up an internet browser. Then she tapped away at the keyboard slowly, using her index fingers to hit the keys.

Several moments passed, then Ponzu tapped her shoulder. "Let me try."

"I can do it."

"Yeah, but I can do it faster," Ponzu insisted. "It's painful watching you fiddle away with the computer."

Asterra's shoulders slumped and her lips shaped into a slight pout, but she still moved out of the seat and let Ponzu take over. The blue-haired girl closed out of Internet Surveyor and clicked on another icon—Moogle Platinum.

"What's that?"

"Another browser that's faster and has more features. Internet Surveyor is ok, but this is better."

_They didn't have that six years ago._

"Where are you going?" Ponzu asked.

"Padokea—Kukuroo mountain."

"Oh, really? That's near where I'm headed," she replied as her fingers flashed across the keys. Asterra marveled at how fast the letters appeared in the search bar of the website.

"Really?" Kikiri chirped.

"Yeah." Ponzu pulled up a map of Padokea. "I'm going to Beekeeper Valley." She pointed at the southern border of Padokea. She then pointed towards the northern tip of Padokea. "This is Kukuroo Mountain. You'll be flying into Gadoseine Airport, then taking the train to Mukuroo Town." She clicked out of the map and back to the webpage full of dates, times, and prices. "You got a credit card?"

Asterra shook her head. "I have cash and a debit card."

"Ehhh, not ideal. How much cash do you have?"

"Enough to buy that ticket you clicked on."

"All right; I'll buy two tickets, you pay me back enough for one ticket in cash. Sound good?"

"Done." She nodded. As the tickets were printed out on the nearby printer, the Resca asked, "Why are you helping me?"

"Like I said before—it was getting painful watching you fenagle with the computer," Ponzu replied.

_Uh-huh. And what else?_

"That, and I was secretly hoping I could get you to travel with me."

 _Ah, there we go_. "Because it's dangerous?"

"Well, somewhat. The Examiners thought you were qualified enough to be a Hunter, so you must be able to take care of yourself." Ponzu took the tickets off the printer and handed one to Asterra. "But you're also a girl my age who's passed the Hunter Exam on her first try. I bet you have some good tips, and you'd be a good person to know in the future. It's all about who you know, after all. Oh, and you're also Sanaari. I've always wanted a Sanaari friend—there aren't many in Beekeeper Valley."

Asterra resisted the urge to correct Ponzu that not all Sanaari were the same—different clans had different personalities and attitudes—then focused on what Ponzu was proposing. One part charity, one part curiosity, two parts practicality. Not quite completely practical, but it felt more familiar and comfortable than Gon and Leorio's full-fledged, incomprehensible generosity. She mentally reviewed the pros and cons. Ponzu didn't seem like a threat…but that could also mean she was dead weight in a fight. However, she was more familiar with machines and computers, and had a credit card. Those seemed like useful things while travelling. So…possible dead weight, but also a person who could help Asterra overcome barriers technology could pose upon her if she were alone.

 _Eh, it's not the first time I've played bodyguard in an arrangement._ "Deal," Asterra nodded, then offered her hand.

Ponzu made a motion to grab it in a handshake, then stopped and clasped Asterra's forearm. "Do they do this in Mereta too?"

Asterra smiled slightly at that, and clasped Ponzu's forearm back. This gesture was one of the few gestures all the clans of Sanaar shared, reserved for after an agreement had been reached and a deal struck. "Yeah, they do."

Ponzu grinned.

=o=o=o=

**Day 7 after the Hunter Exam**

With a final zip, the familiar fabric of her hoodie surrounded Asterra's shoulders. Even if it was not armor, there was something about being back in her old clothes made her feel less vulnerable.

"Looks like you're ready to go," Menchi noted.

Asterra nodded as she straightened her freshly wrapped bandages. As much as she liked the arm sleeves used the last couple of days, the hospital had insisted she leave them behind for hygiene purposes. "The nurse's already walked me through discharge." Fortunately, she did not have to be discharged with any medications—she had finished her course of antibiotics while in hospital, and there was nothing else that required medications to treat. "Are you sure I don't have to worry about the hospital bill?"

"Positive. Hunter Association foots medical bills for injuries sustained during the Hunter Exam," Menchi replied. "Applicants can't sue us for endangering their lives, though."

 _Spirits, they must be made of money or something._ "Understood. Thanks for everything while I was in the hospital."

"Don't mention it," Menchi replied, then handed Asterra a slip of paper. "If you ever need anything, call me, text me, whatever. I'll do what I can. Oh, and a little advice—get a phone sooner rather than later, even if it's a rinky-dink flip phone. It'll make life a little easier."

Asterra took the paper and put it away after she had burned the number into her memory.

"Ready, Asterra?" Ponzu poked her head into the room. "Oh, hi Menchi."

"Oh, you too. Let's swap numbers." Menchi gestured at Ponzu to come over.

The two women exchanged phones and presumably typed their phone numbers into it, after which they returned the phones to each other.

"You two take care now," Menchi said. "Call me if you need anything."

"Will do!" Kikiri chirped.

The group made their way to the hospital entrance as the shuttle bus for the airport arrived. The two humans and one Dokujo hopped on. As the shuttle bus set off, they all waved to Menchi through the window. The familiar thrill hummed through Asterra—the nervous excitement that accompanied a new journey.

The traffic was not excessively heavy—while they were in a large city, it was still early enough to avoid the going-home traffic. The shuttle bus reached the airport with three hours to spare until boarding. After checking in the sword she had requisitioned from the Hunter Exam (weapons were forbidden from being carried on this specific airline) and sorting out the paperwork required to let Kikiri travel with them, they moved on towards security. There the familiar ritual of taking anything and everything off except their clothes in the name of safety and placing everything on the conveyor belt took place. Ponzu made it through the rectangular doorway-like metal detector without any issues. Asterra, on the other hand, made sure to hold onto her Sanaari passport, because—

_SHRIIIIEEEEEK!_

—the metal detector shrilled the moment she walked through it.

Asterra stepped to the side where another person stood with a handheld metal detector. The security personnel gave her an obligatory sweep with the machine, which just screamed the entire time it passed over her body. "Passport?" he asked.

Asterra handed him the passport, which had a dark green cover with the emblem of the Sanaar Republic emblazoned in silver.

The man flipped through the pages until he reached the middle of the document. "Figures," he muttered. He then stamped and signed another page in her passport, then returned the document to her. "Go ahead."

Asterra nodded, grabbing her sweatshirt, backpack, and shoes off the conveyor belt and putting them back on. She then walked back and met up with Ponzu, who was waiting for her.

"What was that?" the teal-eyed girl asked.

"Business as usual when I go through security," Asterra replied.

"Ohh. I remember Grandpa saying something about people from Mereta having metal in their bones. He never said anything about having enough to set off metal detectors though."

"It depends on how much of what we have in our bones. If you have silicon and other minerals, you won't set them off."

"What do you have then?"

 _More like what do I not have._ "It's the aluminum and iron that sets the machines off." She didn't mention that in addition to the two metals, there was lithium, manganese, magnesium, chromium, copper, titanium, boron, and vanadium (whatever that was) in her bones. As the people at the passport office had said, she was essentially a walking periodic table of elements. There was a reason why she always carried her passport and would continue to carry her passport despite having a Hunter License.

Sanaarese passports documented not only nationality and hometown, but also the composition of the holder's skeletal structure. Sanaarese passport offices had doctors' offices and machines for determining mineral composition of one's skeleton using a small bone sample.

"You don't seem bothered by it though," the teal-haired girl mused.

"I've been stopped by security so many times that it's not worth getting embarrassed over it," the Resca replied. She had caused a fair share of delays while travelling with her parents. "It's a fact of life now. As long as I leave early enough, I won't miss a flight."

Ponzu laughed at that.

=o=o=o=

**Three hours later**

The trio boarded the bus that would take them to their designated blimp. The tarmac was already covered by the vehicles—a colorful flock ranging from pastels to neon, some designed to look like animals, all emblazoned with the logos of their respective airlines. Their blimp was a pastel purple with black and grey accents. Stewards and stewardesses in neatly pressed uniforms offered polished smiles and greetings to passengers as they boarded the bottommost level of the blimp's gondola. Each passenger was given a key card to the room that held their assigned bunk.

They were assigned bunks, rather than seats, because this was an overnight flight scheduled to take a total of 25 hours with no refueling stops (a short flight compared to the four-day, multiple-stop flight from Mereta to Essel, the town she had caught the boat to the Hunter Exam). Economy class tickets bought simple accommodations that looked more like a hostel: a room with four bunks, two on the left and right wall, with a set of lockers in the corner for storage. There were communal bathrooms on each floor—spartan things, really, with a couple toilet stalls, showers, and sinks, and not much else. Asterra would have to be strategic about when she washed up.

The blimp took off relatively on time with a familiar, gut-flipping lurch. Once the blimp was airborne, Asterra and Ponzu headed down to the recreational deck.

Blimps that flew domestic flights were small and sparse in décor. Blimps that flew international routes, on the other hand, were generally equipped with leisure activities and places to eat, similar to a cruise ship. Aside from a standard cafeteria on one floor and a café offering lighter fare a la carte, this vehicle featured a mini movie theatre, an arcade with flashing game booths, a business center filled with people in suits, a gym, and a spa. Usually there were entrance fees and service fees associated with these luxuries; tickets to get on the flight were cheap but airlines had a tendency to nickel and dime their passengers to make up money they may have lost. Ponzu and Asterra eventually retreated to the observation deck with the sandwiches and snacks they bought from a convenience store outside the airport for dinner, chatting while watching the world go by underneath them.

Ponzu liked to chat more than Asterra, but not an obnoxious amount—her words had a purpose other than just filling the silence, from the precise wording of her questions. Her body language was open and relaxed. Most of their conversations circled around marveling at landmasses and geographical features, then suddenly veered off into a topic Asterra had no knowledge in.

"Titanium Man?" the Resca echoed. "Who's that?"

Ponzu stared at her blankly.

"What?"

"You don't know who Titanium Man is?" the teal-eyed girl echoed slowly, as if verifying Asterra's question.

"I wouldn't be asking if I did."

Ponzu finished her sandwich, crinkling the wrapping into a small ball as she stood up. "Right. It's time to fix this."

"Fix?" What was so important about this "Titanium Man" that warranted such word choice and immediate action to rectify the knowledge gap?

"Come on." Ponzu's eyes glittered. "We got some learning to do."

=o=o=o=

When Ponzu said, "learning," Asterra had expected something else. Books, maybe, or some educational TV show. Being dragged to the movie theatre and shoved into a seat, with a ticket paid for by Ponzu in hand, was wholly unexpected.

Bombastic, dramatic music with sweeping strings and booming so loud Asterra could feel vibrations in her chest accompanied scenes of carefully filtered carnage. An alien race with obnoxious amounts of eyes (and eyeshadow on each eye) was attacking a city with humans, slaughtering and capturing in equal measure while depicting minimal amounts of blood and despair. Enough to get the point across that these aliens were here to conquer, but not enough to make the movie rating an "R." Just as things were looking exceedingly grim, a man in blue and silver armor flew across the screen, propelled forward by…what were those, exactly?

"Are those…rockets on his hands and feet?" Kikiri asked.

"Yep," Ponzu whispered after swallowing a mouthful of popcorn. There was a tone of quasi-reverence in her voice that made Asterra raise an eyebrow.

Action scenes blended into plot development—desperation against a powerful foe, the romance of individuals brought together by fate banding together to resist. It was a movie supposed to inspire a sense of wonder and excitement, like the tales of heroes told by the _regram_ around a campfire. The movie certainly had similar elements to the old tales. But there was something about the movie that bothered the Resca.

For a movie that revolved around action, the combat scenes were _awful_. Pitiful, even.

To the untrained eye, the flashy scenes must have been entertaining to watch. To one who had been trained extensively in combat, the same moves were inefficient and left critical vulnerabilities begging to be exploited. Exaggerated haymaker punches left that would have given her ample time to land three rapid jabs to the throat. Spin kicks that made characters look more like ballerinas than special forces and would have allowed her to tackle the individual to the ground while their back was turned, riddle their backs with bullets, or quickly slash to the kidneys. Main characters that leaped into the air, swords raised above their heads, in the hope that gravity would contribute to their momentum and therefore power. Apparently the character (well, more like the filmmakers) had failed to realize that once falling, one could not easily dodge in midair and would be at the mercy of projectile weapons and the like.

Spirits, this was going to be a long movie.

=o=o=o=

**Two hours later**

"So, what did you think?" Ponzu asked giddily as they walked back to the observation deck.

Asterra downed the last of her water than replied, "Whoever planned the fight scenes needs to be fired."

Kikiri slumped forward at her response.

Ponzu raised an eyebrow. "That's…not the reaction I expected. What makes you think that?"

Asterra explained how the action scenes, while flashy, were very unpragmatic. She also backed up her opinion with evidence, sharing several scenes that posed an especially horrendous affront to realistic combat. By the time she had outlined her arguments, they were sitting at a table situated in the observation deck. Kikiri lay across her shoulders.

Ponzu sat across from her, elbows on the table with her chin resting in both hands. Teal eyes still held the light of focus, much to the her credit. Most people's eyes glazed over whenever Asterra's dumped this much information on them. "So that scene with Giga-bind and Zeek…"

"Zeek should have died. If Giga-bind was truly the caliber of warrior that he was set up to be, he should have been able to see that Zeek favored his left immensely. Planning counter attacks should have been child's play."

"Asterra, you're over-analyzing," Kikiri sighed.

"It's not realistic," she stated matter-of-factly. "How am I supposed to be invested in it if it's not realistic?"

"The movie started with aliens firing their laser rifles of doom that vaporized people, and you still expected realism?" Kikiri snarked.

"I think it's cool," Ponzu interjected.

Dokujo and human turned toward the turquoise-haired girl.

"I mean, you're the first person I've ever talked to that pointed out the flaws in the action scenes to that degree. You could make an essay out of it," Ponzu continued. "How do you know all of this? I've done some self-defense, but I didn't pick up on even half the stuff you said."

She didn't know about the Resca's mandatory military training, then. A beat of silence, then Asterra replied, "Combat training. A lot of it."

"Yeah, no joke," Ponzu laughed. "You should teach me sometime."

"This place has a gym with boxing supplies. I can make that happen."

"Really?!" There was more excitement in her voice than Asterra expected.

"Yeah. Not much else to do on this ship that's not stupid expensive." _And it'll help me gauge how much use you'd be as an ally…or danger as a foe._

"Yay! Can we go later tonight? I just need to change quickly and then I'd be ready."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll meet you at the gym."

Ponzu nodded, then got up and walked back towards the room.

"Don't be too rough on her," Kikiri said once the girl was out of earshot.

"How's she supposed to learn?" Asterra asked back. "And how am I supposed to gauge her accurately?"

"Ohhh boy. Here we go." Kikiri sighed, then muttered, "This is why I worry about you not making friends."

* * *

**Resca Culture 101**

**Beshkar (beshkari, plural) = lit. poisoned or diseased well. An all-purpose swear word that was originally reserved for inept/useless people, stemming from the idea that nobody wants anything to do with a well with unusable water. "Shit" is generally not used in this case, because dried dung is rather useful as an emergency fuel source for fire in the eyes of Resca.**

**As always, thanks for reading! As always, let me know if anyone feels OOC. I'll admit I struggled with Ponzu. I feel like I'm starting almost from scratch since she didn't have a whole lot of screentime to fully develop her character, and I'm afraid she'll be too similar to Asterra :p**


	35. Hymenoptera

**Note: I increased the rating to M because this chapter contains graphic scenes of violence and bullying that may be disturbing for some individuals. Reader discretion is advised.**

* * *

**Day 8 after the Hunter Exam, Republic of Padokea**

"You're holding up well," Asterra said as the trio disembarked the blimp. It was a three o'clock and sunny in the Republic of Padokea.

"I feel like I've been hit by a truck." Ponzu fixed the strap of her backpack and stretched. "Those thirty minutes made me burn more calories than any Turbo-fit video. Was that what they made you do during your combat training?"

"Those were first-level exercises. I did that when I was ten."

"Say what now?"

Asterra shrugged. "You said you wanted to learn. So I taught."

"That set was for _ten-year olds_?!"

"We did that for three hours every day."

"…Isn't that child abuse?"

Tiny sparks of anger bloomed in her gut, but Ponzu's eyes were like Gon's back on Zevil Island—all earnest curiosity and no malice. It wouldn't be fair to snap at her…which was why she let Kikiri respond.

"It's just how things work over there," the Dokujo replied. "Don't worry, not a lot of people die."

"Not a lot?"

"Things happen," Asterra said.

Passing through customs was uneventful. After picking up the sword Asterra had been required to check in they headed for the train station that would take both of them to their final destinations: Asterra to Mukuroo, the town at the foot of Kukuroo Mountain, and Ponzu to Shaklis in Beekeeper Valley.

According to Ponzu, the walk was a fifteen-minute walk. The trek was simple enough on a map—a straight line and one turn—but once they started walking in the area, Asterra started to have second thoughts. There were too many people of working age loitering around at this time of day for her taste. The dark alleys did not improve her impression of the site.

"It looks worse than it is," Ponzu added. "I've never gotten mugged here before."

"How many times have you taken this street?"

"A lot. I usually go this way when going to the airport. Besides, I don't think they'll attack an armed person." She glanced at Asterra's sword, which was back on her hip with the rope belt.

 _I'll keep watch regardless,_ she thought. Kikiri also raised his head, tufted ears flicking to catch any sound.

After several minutes of walking the back of her neck began to prickle. _**Something's coming, coming, coming. They're coming, coming, coming.**_ The reptile brain was incessant, a nagging whisper. She couldn't catch any malice yet, so either the people were too far away or too good at their job. She hoped it was the former.

"Ponzu," Asterra said.

"I know," the teal-eyed girl replied, not batting an eyelid. Ponzu took out her phone from her pocket and swiped at the screen, then angled the phone at various angles. She straightened her hair and hat. "There's two so far, maybe a third."

So, her travelling companion knew when she was being followed. That was useful. "Do they look like they know the area?"

"Can't tell. They don't look like locals, but that doesn't really mean anything in this city."

"There's two more," Kikiri whispered.

 _Outnumbered._ Asterra thought back to the training session yesterday. Ponzu had spoken truthfully about having some experience in self-defense—emphasis on _some_. She had potential and was fit but lacked the strength to deal damage at close range. However, she had performed well on the exercises focused on the first rule of a fight—know when and how to run. It made sense; her repertoire included laying traps and performing hit and run attacks, after all.

"Kikiri and I can take care of close quarters if you take care of long-range," Asterra murmured. "I'd rather not fight at all, though."

"You and me both." Ponzu put the phone away. "There's a more populated area up ahead. If we can just make it—"

Malice exploded from the left, accompanied by a blur of pale skin.

Asterra's body went on autopilot, sidestepping and guiding the hand away from her. As momentum dragged the man past her, she slammed the heel of her hand into the man's nose. Blood sprayed from his nostrils and the figure staggered back, clutching his face.

She yelled at Ponzu to run; the teal-eyed girl was sprinting before Asterra finished the syllable. There was another flash of malice, with Kikiri screaming "Ten o'clock!" and the sound of knives hissing through air. The Resca ducked, but something made her cheek burn. Metal pinged off of trash cans.

 _Shit shit shit!_ "Firearm!" the Resca hollered, then pivoted and ran in an irregular zigzag fashion, hoping Ponzu knew this area as well as she said she did. The few minutes of looking at a map had allowed her to get a gist of the area but not memorize where every alley led.

It didn't take long for her to catch up with Ponzu. The path ahead was filled with malice, and Ponzu veered to the right. But everywhere they went, malice blocked more and more paths. Ponzu was also starting to hesitate and pause more, as if to think. Another turn later, the malice become more distant and the corridor narrowed.

Ponzu bit her lip. "Asterra, we're being corralled."

The Resca checked for enemies over her shoulder. "Yeah?"

"They've been blocking all the routes I know for sure lead out of this district. There's another path here, but it's blocked by a high fence. I don't know if it leads to the main road for sure either."

Kikiri flicked his ears. "I hear city noises nearby. Our chances are good."

"Let's' just see what we have to work with first," Asterra said as the corridor narrowed to a point where it was barely one shoulder-width wide.

The stench hit them like a tidal wave, warning the three of what lay ahead. The three exited the narrow corridor and came to a square yard-like area filled with refuse. There were several dumpsters that stood out like boulders among the heaps of discarded items ranging from food to clothes to rusted nails. On their left was a chain-link fence, maybe seven feet tall. Barbed wire coiled around the top of the fence in large loops, gleaming in the sunlight.

Ponzu started to walk up to it and Asterra grabbed her shoulder. "Wait." The Resca looked around and took a paper napkin in her hand as she bent down to the floor. Moments later she was holding a dead rat by its tail. From the relative lack of decomposition, it looked like a newly dead creature.

"Umm, what are you doing?" Ponzu asked.

Asterra didn't reply; instead she threw the rat against the fence. The corpse hit the fence and bounced off, landing on the concrete floor with a small thud. The Resca observed the rat for several moments, then turned to Ponzu. "Doesn't look like the fence has electricity running through it. Should be safe to touch."

"Huh, good call." Ponzu rushed over to the fence and pressed her face to it. "I think I see cars."

"Think or know?" Asterra shot back. In this scenario, the options were run, fight, or hide amongst the refuse. Depending on how certain the chances of reaching the main road were, the plan would change.

"The sounds of engines are closer than before," Kikiri said. "They're cars."

"Any alleys branching off?"

"There's two that I can see," Ponzu replied. "Some dumpsters could be blocking more alleys though."

 _Damn. More possible ambush points_. Regardless, running was the best option in this case; they would have to get over the barbed wire though. A quick scan revealed there was one spot towards the edge of the fence that was free of dangerous-looking wire. The Resca pointed to a yellow dumpster near the fence. "That dumpster has wheels on it. Doesn't look too heavy. Push it to the fence and use it to get to that spot with no wires on the right for a footing, then jump down to the dumpsters on the other side."

"Me? What about you?"

"Kikiri and I are going to buy you time. Yell when the dumpster's set. If you hear a whistle like a bird call, close your eyes."

Ponzu nodded. As Asterra turned to take position though, the turquoise-haired girl cried out "Wait!"

The Resca turned toward her to see Ponzu had taken out a bottle with a spray top on it. She recognized it from this morning, when she and Ponzu were getting ready for the day. "Is that your perfume?"

"It's a precaution." Ponzu sprayed both Asterra and Kikiri twice each before Asterra could protest. The spray felt like water against her bare skin and did not smell like anything, which made her wonder if it was just water. "There, done. Don't die!" Ponzu turned on her heel and ran to the dumpster. She rolled up her sleeves, lowered her center of gravity, and started to push.

The Resca took position next to the entrance she and Ponzu had used, pressing her back against the wall. The malice she could detect was accumulating at a point beyond this alley; if she played her cards right this funnel could help buy more time.

Someone was speaking from far beyond the entrance. "We've got'em trapped. Now whoever shot at'em earlier, put your fuckin' gun away! I want the orange one alive!"

So, the enemy was going to hold back. Part of her wondered why they wanted her alive, but she shoved that question aside. It wasn't important at this point; what was important was staying on her feet until Ponzu secured their escape route.

Oxygen flowed in, one deep breath at a time, and her senses sharpened. _**Focus, focus. Locate and differentiate.**_ The grating sound of Ponzu dragging the dumpster across the concrete phased out of mind as Asterra centered in on the malice, until she could tell where each one was. Eight people in all, all lined up and struggling to pass through.

_**Now.** _

Asterra forced air through her lips and a warbling bird call cut through the silence. A moment later a tan ball flew into the alleyway and Asterra covered her eyes.

BANG!

There were cries of surprise and pain as the flashbang exploded in the narrow alleyway. The flashbang was not a grenade—it would not burn severely or release shrapnel—but the blinding and disorienting effects were useful.

The first figure tumbled out of the smoke crawling out of the alley entrance, coughing and sputtering. His arms flailed in the air in a futile attempt to orient himself while his sight recovered. He tripped over Asterra's strategically placed foot and ate concrete. Kikiri descended upon him as a crippling blow. The next man that tumbled out met a cracking blow to the face. While he was dazed, Asterra grabbed his arm and used it to slam his face into the nearby brick wall with a snarl. Something white tumbled out of his mouth after a hearty crack, and assailant number two fell to his knees and toppled over with a groan.

The assailants stopped exiting the alleyway. It was likely the rest of the group had heard their companions' moans and decided to wait until their senses returned to normal. After all, a flashbang's effects on vision lasted mere seconds, and the effects on balance several minutes at the most. Those minutes could be all they needed to escape, though.

"You done yet?!" the Resca shouted over her shoulder.

"Almost…!" Ponzu hissed back, strain coloring her voice. Rusted wheels screeched in protest at being moved. "Move, you stupid…chunk…of plastic!"

Asterra bounced on her toes in front of the smoky alleyway, body ready to spring. And then Kikiri was fluffing up at her shoulder and malice spiked four, five, six times. _Shit, they're gonna charge me._

It didn't matter how strong a person was—fighting multiple enemies at once was difficult. One had to consider so many variables when fighting one person; compounding those variables by fighting multiple opponents simultaneously ran the risk of sensory overload. She would rather avoid such a situation; after all, it took only one mistake to take down even the strongest of warriors. But she didn't have that choice at the moment. She had to buy time, no matter what it took.

Asterra took a small step back as adrenaline coursed through her veins, like a magic serum that made everything clearer and simpler. The effect was compounded by the faint sense of déjà vu she felt—she had been in this situation before, had always been in this situation—and the cold acceptance (or resignation?) that she would continue to be in this situation.

 _All right; come on then._ One deep breath to steady her nerves. A second one, because her hands were still shaking slightly. "Vok o garei, tul dan ag Dorei _._ Vok o garei, tul dan ag Dorei _."_ She said the words under her breath in a rhythmic chant that sped up with each iteration. For a battlefield chant, it had a surprisingly meditative quality to it. " **Awaken or die, Fate is the Spirits' game."**

Kikiri fluffed up on her shoulder.

The glob of malice hurtled itself at her.

Six figures stumbled out of the alley. The first muscularly built woman lunged at her with bloodshot eyes and drunken steps, arms spread out wide in a bear hug. Asterra sidestepped the tackle and whistled for Kikiri. An auburn streak flew up the woman's body in the next moment, and there was a cry as the Dokujo's venomous fangs punctured her skin.

Kikiri's assistance let her focus on the overhead hook flying at her. She ducked, then used the upward momentum to slam her fist into her opponent's groin. The man doubled over, and she continued upwards, grabbing the back of his head with both hands and slamming her knee into his face. A roundhouse kick to the face sent him flying into the brick wall.

A flash of malice to her right and her peripheral vision warned her of the next blow—a roundhouse kick. She tightened her guard and the kick thudded into her right upper arm. Her left arm snaked around and captured the foot; her right hand flew to the lateral side of the man's knee. With a hissing exhale, she pushed inwards on the knee and while holding the ankle steady. The result was a dull popping sound as the man's knee bent at an unnatural angle, and a scream of pain that razed her eardrums with its proximity.

Ponzu hollered words she had long waited to hear. "I'm done! Let's go!"

 _About time._ Asterra threw the man's leg aside and pivoted on her foot, whistling for Kikiri at the same time, and propelled—

Something yanked on her ankle, taking her entire leg out from under her. She landed on her forearms and toes, knees above the ground, and glanced back. A pale hand, tattooed with some sort of insignia, had grabbed her ankle.

"Heh, gotcha," the muscular woman chuckled, her smile more gums than teeth.

_Shit._

Asterra yanked on her foot in an attempt to break free, but within seconds she was surrounded by the remaining three assailants. The first blow was a low kick to her kidney; the second a kick to her gut. Both stung, the latter made her cough and gasp. And try as she might to curl into a ball and protect her organs, head, and neck, the woman's iron grip on her ankle kept her one leg straight. Blows continued to connect with the girl's body, and she heard someone—a girl—scream.

Something grabbed her arm and she was being flipped onto her stomach. Rough hands pulled her left arm back and she felt the scratchy sensation on her wrist, wrapping around and around. In the next moment her right hand was being pulled behind her.

The action reminded her of when she tied up a sheep or goat's legs before setting it on a horse for transport.

Fear bloomed within her; her reptile brain was deafening in her mind, screaming at her to _**Fight, fight, fight! You cannot be captured, not here, not now!**_

Fire flooded her veins, accompanied by a furious strength that had welled up within her from nowhere. Her body instinctively, violently writhed. She snapped her free foot and launched it at the nearest face with a grunt; foreign syllables shot into the air as there was a crack, and the man stumbled back a step. But a moment later that leg's ankle was grabbed and forced down to the ground as well.

The shriek of rage that cut through the air made the people around her pause; a startled yelp and gurgling sound filled the void. Her foot was released and fell to the floor. The smell of iron entwined with the sensation of mist on the back of her neck and she knew what was happening even before she turned around to look at the carnage.

Kikiri had sunk his teeth deep into an assailant's throat, then snapped his small head sharply to the right. The result was the jugular vein being incised and releasing a shower of blood that stained Kikiri's fur crimson. When the man tried to claw at where the Dokujo was with the fury and desperation of a dying animal, Kikiri hopped to another human. The man with a torn throat toppled over on top of Asterra, his body twitching against her spine. A shriek later, the force holding her wrists back disappeared.

Her wrists now free, the Resca switched her focus to freeing her ankle, this time slamming her foot into the woman's face. The woman drew up her other arm to protect herself. Kikiri fought viciously, crawling and clawing all over the person he had jumped onto and hopping between people. But eventually someone got a hand on his torso and started to squeeze, eliciting a pained squeal from the Dokujo.

" _NO!_ " She kicked at the woman's head with renewed vigor. "Get the fuck off me, _beshkar_ —"

Her swearing was cut off by a sound that chilled her blood.

_Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz._

Her head snapped up to see a swarm of yellow and black converging on the assailants. More screaming ensued as the swarm converged on the assailant's faces; Kikiri was released so the man could claw at the bees with two open hands. The pressure was alleviated from Asterra's ankle as well. The girl's hand shot out to Kikiri and brought the Dokujo close to her chest.

The buzzing and sight of bees near the assailants' mouths brought up flickers of memories.

_Blood in the mouth, swollen lips and tongue; prickly, chitinous masses being shoved into her forced-open mouth. Three jeering faces—faces that delighted in torment as long as it was not their own—_

She screwed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. _Come on, stay in the present, stay in the present._ She focused on Kikiri's fur, the blood trickling down her cheek. Adrenaline and the man screaming in pain helped cement her here as well, kept her from being swept away by remembrance.

But where had the bees come from? Asterra wiggled her foot in an attempt to escape the weight, but froze when she heard Ponzu yell, "Stay still!"

The Resca obeyed the command and lay face down on the ground, covering her head with one hand. The screaming continued above her head, and she could imagine what was ensuing while trying to control her heart rate with deep breaths. There were faint, prickly sensations on the back of the leg that stuck out from beneath the corpse, like some very light creatures were walking on them to investigate. She shut down her mind to avoid further identification of those creatures, instead counting the grains of sand she could see in front of her.

Once the screaming de-escalated into moans, Ponzu's voice called out, "Come back!"

The faint prickling sensations left her leg. Asterra raised her head in time to see the bees surround Ponzu's hat and wriggle into the cloth, as if the hat was their hive.

Spirits, she had been that close to bees _this_ _whole fucking time?_

"Don't just sit there! Come on!" Ponzu's command snapped Asterra out of her reverie. The Resca shot up, and the weight on her back slid off with a meaty thud behind her. Fingernails tore the rope off her wrists as she stole glances around her to check if her assailants were standing back up. The humans did not move; they lay still like demented dolls, faces and limbs swollen beyond recognition. Insect carcasses lay scattered among the corpses.

Three of the assailants had the same tattoo: a curved crescent-like shape spread to the right of a rounded, vertical rectangle. There was another smaller rounded rectangle below the crescent, oriented perpendicular to the other rectangle.

The rope fell to the ground; at the same moment there was the sensation of claws needling along the length of her spine and a familiar weight settling across her shoulders. Once Kikiri was situated, she pushed off the ground and ran towards the fence. Ponzu was jumping down onto the other side as Asterra clambered onto the dumpster. The Resca set her foot in the space devoid of wire and jumped onto the dumpster below. It didn't take long for her to catch up with Ponzu, who had bolted towards end of the alley and was almost in the street.

Honks and yelling greeted them as they burst into the busy street of a commercial district. Asterra grabbed Ponzu's bicep and drew her into the crowd, pulling up her hood to hide her hair and beckoning Ponzu to take her hat off. She opened her backpack so Kikiri could dive into it, then repositioned it in front of her chest. The pair zigzagged amongst the crowd, and Asterra tried to make their path cross as many people in uniform as possible— _ **do not rely on them, they could be corrupt**_ —and kept going, going, going, her mind continuously searching for any malice directed towards her while stealing glances over her shoulder. When Ponzu grabbed her hand and led her through busy markets and crowded intersections at a relentless pace, she obeyed quietly, letting herself be led so she could focus on detection of danger.

She didn't know how long they walked. But eventually Ponzu dragged her into a park filled with families on their day out, then glanced back at her. Her gaze was a question in it of itself, and Asterra nodded in response. _I don't detect anything_.

Ponzu nodded as well and let go of Asterra's hand once they reached a large tree. The turquoise-haired girl leaned against the tree and took a few deep breaths. Asterra unzipped the backpack and beckoned Kikiri to come out.

"What was that?" Ponzu's voice was indignant, but it shook as well. "That's never happened before. That place is supposed to be safe."

"You should revise your definition of 'safe,'" Asterra said.

"There is a time and place for being a smartass, and this is _not_ it," Ponzu replied with a disapproving edge to her voice as she shot Asterra a withering glare. She dug a mirror out of her bag and held it out to the Resca. "Hold this."

"And this is the time and place to be fixing your hair?"Asterra quipped back as she acquiesced.

"Hey, this thing is heavier than it looks. I need to balance it properly if I don't want a stiff neck tomorrow." Once the orange-haired girl was holding the mirror, Ponzu placed her hat back on her head again, tilting it this way and that, and fixed some stray locks of hair. Pale hands shook throughout the whole process. Her next words were a careful murmur. "They wanted you alive."

Although the words were said as a statement, the question woven into them was impossible to miss. "Yeah. Don't know why though." The cold voice from the dream in the hospital echoed in her head— _ **Because, child…the hunt has begun. And you are the prey.**_ Sea green eyes narrowed to slits, and lips pursed into a thin line.

Ponzu glanced up at Resca. "That look in your eyes says otherwise." For a person who was visibly shaking and taking steps to calm herself down, her teal eyes had a surprising amount of steel in them that dared Asterra to even consider ignoring her statement.

"…I have a hunch, but no evidence."

"Gut feeling, huh?" Ponzu turned her head slightly to check a different angle. "My grandma always said to listen to your gut feelings. Said it was your past lives trying to tell you something."

"My past lives need to speak up already."

Ponzu chortled. "Yeah. I wish it worked like that." She held out her hand and thanked Asterra when she returned the mirror.

"You may have been safer travelling without me," the Resca added.

Ponzu shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm going to become a Hunter; I can't let this scare me so easily."

"Fear is helpful in moderate doses."

"Sure—until it paralyzes you."

"Emphasis on moderate," Asterra replied. She crossed her arms. "So back there, with the insects."

Ponzu shook her head. "Not now; trade secret. Just know that if I scream or collapse, they come out to attack whatever's around me."

Asterra cocked her head. "They didn't attack me."

"You were hidden under that body and stayed still. Bees use carbon dioxide, heat, and movement to target their enemies."

She doubted staying still was the only prerequisite to not being stung but refrained from further questions.

Kikiri chirped up next."Will they stay in there?"

"They won't come out or attack unless I tell them to," she replied. Confidence provided a solid foundation to her tone. "Anyways…want to head over to the train station? If we leave now, we can still make the train we booked."

"You still want to travel with me?"

"We had an agreement. Besides, whoever those people were might have me marked too. I have a better chance of surviving if we stick together. You too, no?"

The Resca smiled once more. "You're practical."

"So I've been told. Got a problem with it?"

"None at all."

"Good. Now, train station is that way. Are we travelling together or no?"

"Yes," Asterra nodded. "As you said—we had an agreement."

"Follow me, then." Ponzu proceeded to walk toward an exit surrounded by evergreen trees.

=o=o=o=

**Day 8, evening – Train to Mukuroo**

Asterra and Ponzu situated themselves into their assigned train cabin, which was eight feet by eight feet and smelled like car freshener. Towards the window there were two seats with navy blue cushions facing each other; these could be converted into the bottom bunk of the accommodations. The top bunk, with sheets and all, was folded into the wall above the window and could be pulled down as needed.

"Finally," Ponzu sighed, taking her shoes off and hugging the pillow provided. "We're almost there."

"You are. Mukuroo's the last stop," Asterra replied, checking the hallway one final time before locking the door. The train ride to Mukuroo was scheduled to take 24 hours, which put Asterra's ETA at 5pm tomorrow. Ponzu was scheduled to get off tomorrow later in the morning; she would meet up with relatives in the Shaklis market and hitch a ride home with them.

"You'll be fine. I'm pretty sure Kukuroo Mountain's close to the station; an hour bus ride, max. You'll get there while it's still light."

An earlier phone call had revealed that Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio were still trying to open the front door to Killua's house. Said house was apparently a popular tourist frequented by a bus tour. Asterra had expected an assassin's nest to be more…under the radar. Resca mercenaries had safehouses in major cities that changed often, and she had expected something similar from the Zoldycks. Perhaps being one of the most feared assassin households in the world gave them the privilege of living in plain sight.

"Hey, I feel bad saying this after you're about to get comfortable but do can you leave the cabin for like, thirty minutes?"

"Why?"

"I need to feed my bees, and I do that by putting out sugar water and letting them all out. They don't sting unless I'm in danger, but people don't usually like being surrounded by a swarm." She placed her hands together in front of her, as if offering Asterra a prayer. "Please? They're really sensitive to their feeding schedule."

_Blood in the mouth, swollen lips and tongue; prickly, chitinous masses being shoved into her forced-open mouth. Three jeering faces—faces that delighted in torment as long as it was not their own—_

She shoved the memory back.

Well, the bees had saved her back there. They had their use. They deserved to be fed. She just had to think of them like the horses or sheep back home, even if it made her skin crawl to think this room was to be taken over by the damn insects temporarily. So Asterra replied "okay," grabbed her bag, and left the room with Kikiri.

Curiosity made her linger in the hallway and peer in through the window. Ponzu lay out a bowl of water and sugar and set her hat down on the table and tapped the hat twice. The surface of the hat puckered and pitted, then insects crawled out of the hat by the hundreds. Ponzu stayed where she sat, unaffected despite being surrounded by a tornado of chitin. In fact, there was a soft expression on her face, like a mother watching her children.

Chills shot up Asterra's spine at the sight; nausea welled up from the pit of her stomach. The pinpricks of pain—Kikiri headbutting her ear—made her tear away from the sight. The Dokujo's dark eyes looked up at her, the concern apparent within them.

"Come on. Let's go somewhere else," he said. "You're just going to make yourself sick here."

Asterra left, grateful that Ponzu had not unleashed the swarm on her while they had been sitting in the cabin and walked to the observation car.

The car had a series of seats facing the windows on the left and right side of the train. It allowed one to watch blue mountains that contrasted with the fiery colors of the sunset. She took an open seat and watched the colors bleed together, Kikiri wrapped around her neck.

She shouldn't had let her guard down—the memories always pounced at times like these, after all.

=o=o=o=

**Mereta, five years ago**

" **Dammit**!"

Their skin was starting to pull at their bones.

Frustration, desperation curled in the air around the Trainees…Asterra could feel it slice at her skin without making it bleed, as surely as each strike that pounded into the flesh of her limbs, her back.

The group she was part of—the three people she has been assigned to work with this month—have lost today. There will be no second meal for them.

" **It's your fault, beshkar** ," a dark-haired boy spat at her. Tem, the leader. Blood crusted around a gash on his forehead.

" **I…sorry…** " the wet trails won't stop streaming down her face at the pain stabbing throughout her body. She knew the stupid drops of water wouldn't win her any allies, and there were too many for Kikiri to face alone. Her fellow Trainees' anger was stewing, and they needed a scapegoat to beat.

" **Shut up, stupid. You can't even speak right.** " A jeer from a blonde girl, Tem's twin sister Rem, showed rows of small teeth slightly yellowed. " **Why are you so weak?! If you hadn't messed up that last round, we wouldn't be in this position!** "

" **I not eaten…in long hours…** " Asterra forced out. An excuse. An attempt to make this all stop.

Another foot dug into her ribs—Soret, the silent one. The obedient one. The angry one.

The dark-haired boy cocked his head. " **Why didn't you tell us?** " There was a pale-looking beehive all of a sudden, and the boy shakes the hive. Little insects tumbled out, falling to the ground like pepper. " **Bees are nutritious**."

Asterra shook her head vigorously. " **No**."

" **You're hungry, aren't you?"** The gleam in his eyes scared her and Asterra attempted to rise to her feet.

She was yanked back, her arm captured. One by one her limbs were caught, their freedom robbed, until she felt the dirt cold and hard against her knees.

She bit the first hand that touched her face. Rem snapped her hand back, and Tem stepped in to punch her in the nose, making it bleed. Then there's too many hands, too strong—her face was held in place and her mouth forced open.

Her last resort was a wordless scream. A cry for her parents who were on another continent and for Kikiri who was out hunting. The other Trainees were stuffing their faces with food in another place too far for them to hear and there were no Trainers around.

And then there were too many bee carcasses in her mouth.

…

She didn't know how much time passed before an anguished howl dimly registered in her brain. Snarling, humans screaming, of teeth shearing flesh. Vibrations from the dirt made her teeth chatter. Her nose was stuck into the soil, her mouth swollen and tasting of blood and something else. When she finally flopped onto her side, there was Kikiri in front of her, sobbing apologies, his chin dripping with blood.

Asterra cried with him.

Because everything hurt—her mouth, her stomach, her sides, her legs, her arms, her shoulders, her nose, her chest, _everything_.

Because nothing made sense in this place.

Because she didn't understand why she had to go through this.

Because there was no Mommy or Daddy to make her pains go away with a stroke of the head or a whisper of comfort.

Because there was only the voice in the back of her head, whispering, urging, _**No mercy, no mercy, no mercy. There is no mercy in this place. So give none, expect none. Climb over the corpses and become the strongest.**_

_**Or this pain will never stop.** _

=o=o=o=

**Day 8 after the Hunter Exam, evening**

Asterra grit her teeth and fought the urge to curl up into a ball. Instead, she stood up and walked towards the end of the car. The observation car of the train also happened to be the last car of the train; therefore, it happened to have an observation deck that would be perfect to get some fresh air.

Cold air whipped across her face once she was outside, leaning on the railing. It felt good—more than good enough for a distraction. It felt like she was horseback riding, and she could still see the vibrant sunset and how the violet bled into red.

She didn't know how long she had been out here when a face peered into hers. She jolted, then realized it was Ponzu and relaxed.

"Not sure what you were thinking about, but must have been interesting," she replied. "And jeez, how long have you been out here? Your cheeks are really red."

"Not sure…lost track of time." Asterra mentally kicked herself, because she really did not know. The sun had sunk below horizon, leaving her alone with the white pinpricks dotting the night sky. Not being aware of one's surroundings to the point of being oblivious to the passage of time was not a productive habit to have.

"Come on, I finished feeding my bees. You must be freezing out here."

Ponzu was right—Asterra couldn't feel her fingers, courtesy of the cold night air. She brought her hands up to her mouth, using her breath to warm them, and followed Ponzu back to the cabin.

Once she reached the door, though, her feet froze at the sight of the hat.

"Asterra?" Ponzu asked. "What's wrong?"

Spirits, she was supposed to be over this. She had thoroughly thrashed Tem, Rem, and Soret five years ago and left them bleeding in the forest, where they been discovered with wounds covered in bloody icicles. It had been her first act of obedience to her reptile brain. But here she was, afraid to cross this threshold because of some stupid insects that lay on the other side. She may have left the trio in the forest to die all those years ago, but the fear had refused to stay with them.

Ponzu glanced behind her, following Asterra's gaze, and turned back to the Resca. "Hey…do you not like bees?"

Asterra pursed her lips.

"Were you stung before?"

The Resca shook her head.

"Look, I promise they won't hurt you. They don't attack unless I tell them to."

Her shoulders shook without her permission, and she grabbed her forearm.

Ponzu finally sighed. "All right, fine. Let's do this." She played with a piece of her hair. "I'm not about to let you stand out there the whole night and ruin your sleep. So if you come in and sit there, I'll tell you how I control the bees."

Kikiri nudged her. "Come on. You wanted to know about this, didn't you?"

_**Knowledge is power. You know this. Do not falter.** _

Asterra finally took a deep breath and walked into the room; her joints felt stiff and rickety. Ponzu locked the door behind her and sat down. She tapped once on the hat, and a single bee came out of the hat. It buzzed lazily around the teal-haired girl then settled down on the palm of Ponzu's hand.

"This here is a neurotoxic bee," Ponzu started. "I keep them in my hat. They attack if I collapse, scream, or order them to."

"Why don't they sting you?"

"Because I'm their queen." Ponzu took out the plastic spray bottle with water from her bag—the one she had used to spray Asterra with earlier. "Bees communicate mainly by pheromones and movement. A queen has its own unique pheromone; that's how bees know to protect her and know she's alive."

"That's the perfume you sprayed on me."

"Not perfume, pheromone. But yep. So now my bees think you're their queen as well."

"Isn't it a problem for the hive to have two leaders?"

"If you knew how to control the bees as well, it would be a problem. But you don't, so that pheromone marks you as a friend of the hive. They won't sting you, no matter what." Ponzu looked up to Asterra. "Look…I don't know what bees you ran into before, but you should know they aren't mindless insects that sting on sight. When bees sting elastic skin, like mammals and birds, their stinger is ripped out of their abdomen, poison gland and all. They give their life to protect their 'queen.'"

Asterra remembered the bee carcasses sprinkled around the unconscious assailants. "That's not helpful for survival."

"Which is why it's the older bees that usually serve as guards. The ones I have with me are older bees that don't have long to live." She glanced down at the bee in her palm, a soft yet melancholy look on her face. "They're not just insects—they're my guardians. My friends. They will lay down their lives to protect me; I can't just unleash them on anyone I please. I have to be responsible."

 _I have to be in control of my fear_ , her tone said.

"So, you see? I'm not going to unleash the bees on you, and they won't attack you either."

Asterra nodded. The objective part of her marveled at how the small insect could make her feel powerless while making Ponzu feel the opposite. And the look in her eyes—they were like the eyes of a child playing with a beloved pet, or a Resca taking care of a favored horse. A complicated bond, for it was a delicate balance between cherishing something and maintaining enough distance because the creature was bound to die sooner rather than later.

"Are those bees the only ones you can control?" Asterra asked.

Ponzu made a sign in the air with her finger, and the bee returned to her hat. "For now, yes."

"For now?"

"In Beekeeper Valley, we keep several types of bees and can control them. More experienced people keep wasps for self-defense."

"What's the difference between them? They both buzz and sting."

Ponzu made clicking noises with her tongue and waved her index finger. The morose air was gone, replaced with one of a chiding teacher. "A lot of differences, actually. The two big ones are that bees have a laxer temperament and can only sting once. Wasps are meaner—unless you know what you're doing—have a straight stinger and can sting multiple times. The wasps in Beekeeper Valley are especially poisonous and cranky."

"So the wasps make better fighters. When do you get them?"

"After you learn the 'weight of life.'" Ponzu made air quotes while replying. "That, and you have to have a really good reason to persuade the elders to give you permission to even learn how to control wasps. I thought becoming a Hunter would be reason enough, but…" She stared out the window. "Here I am, without a license."

"You entered the Hunter Exam so you could learn how to control wasps?" _She must really love her bees_.

"Huh, I guess it does sound like that. Not quite though." She took her shoes off and curled up on the chair. "Have you heard of colony collapse disorder?"

Asterra shook her head.

"That sounds bad," Kikiri said.

"It _is_ bad. CCD is when the majority of a hive's worker bees suddenly disappear, leaving behind the queen and the young. There's honey and pollen left over in the hive, but without workers the hive can't survive for long. The hive—colony—collapses. No carcasses near the hive, or anywhere, actually. Just there one moment, then gone the next."

"Oh." Asterra frowned. "What causes it?"

"Nobody knows."

"So you want to become a Hunter to find the cause."

Ponzu nodded. "It hurts when a hive you've been taking care of just…dies on you and you can't do anything without it. Beekeeper Valley hasn't been badly affected yet, but other countries have been reporting thirty to fifty percent losses. I want to figure out why, and that'll take me to dangerous places I don't want to bring my bees to."

"It sounds like you're trying to do your people a favor," Kikiri said. "Why don't the elders want to help you by letting you control wasps?"

"Who knows," Ponzu replied, throwing her hands up in the air. "They're old, I'm not. They see things differently, I guess."

"Then see it their way."

"Whose side are you on?" she asked incredulously.

"If you understand their views, you'll understand the weaknesses in their arguments." Asterra added.

"Or in less brutal words—what about you makes the elders not want to give you access to wasps?" Kikiri asked.

Ponzu paused for a moment. "I…don't know."

"Have you asked?"

"Yeah. But they keep saying I 'don't understand the weight of life.'"

"What did you say before saying that?"

"I told them I wanted to learn how to use wasps because they're better offensively and I wouldn't have to put my bees in danger." She ruffled her hair. "Ugh. I love old people, but man oh man can they be a pain."

"They probably say that about young people too," Kikiri said.

"Yeah, I bet," Ponzu laughed. A few moments of silence. "Why do you want to become a Hunter?"

"To obtain any and all information," Asterra replied.

"Information broker?" Ponzu asked. "Is there something you're looking for specifically?"

"Yes." When Ponzu's eyes asked for more information, Asterra said, "That's my business."

"That's not fair. I told you about my bees."

As much as Asterra didn't hate Ponzu's company, there was no reason to tell her about her crystals or her odd dreams. Ponzu likely did not have access to human trafficking or human genome databases, after all. "That was your call. We never agreed to exchange information in equal amounts."

"…Do you realize how Tafta you sounded?"

"I've been told plenty by my relatives." Specifically, the Resca side of her family. Being stoic and tight-lipped may have been a Resca trait, but Tafta were notorious for driving people up the wall with their talk of agreements and contracts. "Takes one to know one, though."

"Oomph." Ponzu pretended to be in pain, then righted herself. "Fine, I should have known better. It's still shitty, though."

"Why is it shitty?" Why did this bother Ponzu, when she had not been bothered by Asterra's other honest remarks?

"I told you something personal."

"Did you expect something in return without making an explicit agreement?"

"People don't say all their agreements out loud. Some rules are unsaid."

This must be the whole "manners within culture" her mother had once talked to her about. How groups of people could move efficiently because they had similar beliefs and rules they did not have to discuss; how assumptions were required to move daily routines along. "How do you expect people to follow through with rules they might not know?"

Ponzu regarded her coolly. "What happened to you before this, Asterra?"

"Before what?"

"Before this exam. You know how to fight but can't tell a flip phone from a laptop. You take everything literally. Your social graces could use some work. You're so focused on making sure you get a verbal confirmation before doing anything with me, almost like…" Ponzu paused to gather her words.

"I don't make assumptions."

"Yeah, I can see that from a mile away. But this isn't on that level."

Spirits, what now? Did Ponzu think she was treating her unfairly? "I've been treating you like I treat everyone."

"Everyone, huh?" Ponzu leaned back in her seat. "Then what happened to make you think the whole world isn't worth trusting?"

Asterra brought her knees to her chest and clamped her mouth shut. She raised her shoulders to make sure Kikiri was still there, curled around her neck.

Ponzu cocked her head and waited. Moments melted into seconds, seconds into minutes as the two girls stared at each other within the steady running sounds of the train.

Finally, Ponzu shrugged and stood up. "Whatever. It's not my business. My bad for prying. I'll be gone tomorrow, so you won't have to deal with these questions for long." She reached towards the bunk above the window and pulled on a lever to make it descend into an upper bunk. Within seconds, she had brought down the ladder and was in the bunk with her hat. "Piece of advice though—lot of information comes from people. If you can't connect with people, you're going to have a hard time finding what you're looking for."

Asterra stared up at the bottom of the bunk that now blocked the light. It creaked, presumably as Ponzu shifted her weight. _Is she angry? Why? I didn't do anything._ The Resca looked to Kikiri, who usually had something to chime in at these points in time.

The Dokujo, though, remained silent. When she poked him, he opened one eye.

"Help me," she mouthed.

"You're on your own for this one," he muttered back.

"But you're better with people than I am!"

"Do you know how sad that sounds?" he said. "I'm not even human."

"Would you quit being a smartass?!"

"No. I think this is a good learning opportunity for you," he replied. "Figure it out." The Dokujo jumped down to the rim of the window and curled up into a ball.

"Turn out the lights whenever," Ponzu said, then went silent.

The situation evoked déjà vu—like when Leorio had had ended the conversation on the blimp after Zevil Island. She had thought Ponzu would be easier to work with because of her pragmatic nature. Were all people of the outside world so sensitive? If so, the road ahead was going to be more difficult than she thought.

Was this because she didn't know all of the unsaid rules? Was knowledge of these things what was required to survive in the world outside Mereta?

…

Fine then. Asterra had been taught to see the relationships between people by observing them. She had honed her ability to identify weaknesses by identifying the patterns in their actions. She would use those skills of observation to figure out all of these stupid, incomprehensible unspoken rules. After all, human society was built on patterns. Surely, she could determine the proper way to elicit a desired response from interactions with non-Resca.

Observe, formulate, execute, revise; repeat until the objective was completed. There was no difference in the order of tasks between immobilizing an enemy and interacting with other humans. What differed was the information she used to accomplish the latter objective.

Asterra made the bottom bunk by pushing a button that made the opposing chairs extend and connect into a mattress. She made the bed with the sheets provided, made sure the door was locked, and turned off the lights. After she slipped into the sheets, Kikiri crawled in next to her.

The sounds of wheels against rails served well as white noise for her racing mind.

=o=o=o=

**Day 9 after the Hunter Exam, morning**

The bunk creaking above her woke her up from sleep. The bed creaked more as pale feet hung from the edge of the upper bunk, resting above the rung of the ladder. There was a sigh, and Ponzu descended the ladder. After shuffling around, the girl looked towards Asterra's bunk. She yelped when she saw Asterra staring at her from the lower bunk.

"Holy cheeseballs, Asterra!" Ponzu placed a hand over her heart and leaned over the counter. "If you're awake, say something! Don't just look at me like that!"

Asterra sat up in the bunk. "I'm looking for humans with crystals embedded in their skin."

"….Huh?"

Her words were the result of two generalizations produced after several hours of thinking and combing through her previous experiences with all the humans she had encountered.

One, humans had a tendency to reflect what was done to them. She had seen other people "return favors" after receiving help or being the subject of actions that elicited positive emotions within them. For example, Gon's actions throughout the exam had led to some of the applicants, herself included, standing between Illumi and the door to Gon's room in an attempt to protect them. Two, humans expected some sort of payback of equal or greater measure when they committed an act that put them in a vulnerable situation. The "give-and-take," so to speak.

So, Ponzu's anger was the result of divulging something personal but not receiving something of equally personal value in return from Asterra. She was angry at the imbalance of power. Which meant if Asterra shared something personal, Ponzu's attitude towards Asterra would change to something more favorable because the balance of power would shift.

"You asked me last night what I'm looking for. I've given you an answer. Are you still angry?"

Ponzu stared at her, mouth agape.

"Why are you looking at me like I've gone crazy?"

"The timing of your comment, for starters. I was looking for a 'good morning' and not some bombshell. And second, crystals embedded in the skin? That happens?"

"It can."

"Jeez," Ponzu muttered. "Okay, back to your question. Am I still angry? A little."

"But I said something that would equal the balance of power between us. Why are you still angry?"

"Uhhh…because that's how my emotions work? I can't just stop feeling something at the drop of a hat." Ponzu said. "You're missing the point."

A flash of panic at the unseen development. "What point?"

"I wasn't trying to one-up you or anything. I spoke about my bees to make you feel safer around me."

"Why?"

"Because you looked scared. I wanted to help."

"Why?"

"Asterra, you sound like a little kid," Kikiri said.

"Uhhhh….it's what decent people do?" Ponzu replied.

"But you put yourself in a vulnerable position to help me," Asterra continued.

"Aren't you the one that took on a small army so I could get an escape route set up?"

"That was a tactical move. I'm better suited for combat than you."

"It still doesn't change the fact that you put yourself in danger to help me. You could have run away and left me behind."

"I suppose. But that wasn't the agreement we had."

"I feel like I'm talking to a broken record," Ponzu muttered, rubbing her temples with both hands. "Okay, let's try it this way. I talked about how I control the bees because I wanted to help you and I trusted you. But you didn't say a word of thanks or show me some of that trust back. That's why I was angry."

"…So all I had to do was say thank you?"

"Or show that you trusted me as well."

Asterra frowned. "My theory was off."

"What, the power balance thing? You weren't far off—it was more of a trust balance thing." Ponzu started to wash her face. "Besides, you can't just 'theorize' what's making someone angry. You'll break your brain. Trust me; people are hard."

"Yet they still insist on living in groups."

"Funny how it works, isn't it?" Ponzu wiped her face, then laughed upon looking at Asterra. "I should have warned you sooner; you look like you've broken your brain already."

Kikiri chortled while Asterra scowled. "Whose side are you on?!"

Spirits, this was aggravating. It made Asterra wish she was facing off with the people in the alleyway again or stuck alone in a forest somewhere. At least she knew what she was doing in those situations.

A stream of numbers appeared into view, and suddnely there was a piece of paper dangling in front of her. When Asterra looked to the side, Ponzu said, "Let's swap numbers."

"I don't have a cellphone."

"What about the cobra things?"

Asterra thought for a moment. " _Kobriyet_?"

"Yeah, that! Give me that number to keep in touch."

"Why? I got you to the destination. What other terms are there else to fulfill?"

"Terms? I don't remember being a contract. Oh, right. Tafta brain, Tafta brain." Ponzu tapped her chin. "Um…I'm asking you to extend the terms to keeping in contact."

"Why?"

"Because you're weird. I like weird." Ponzu grinned. "And once I have my sights on someone, I don't give up easily."

"Even if they're possibly being targeted by an unknown force?"

"It adds to your air of mystery."

Another tie; another potential complication. But Ponzu was interesting and practical, and easy to be around. And despite the most recent misunderstanding, she made more sense than the four applicants Asterra had met during the Hunter Exam.

"If you're going to become an Information Hunter, you're going to want contacts. A network to draw on. Even the unlikeliest of people can lead you to the most helpful places. You already have Menchi, and Gon and his friends. Make me a part of that network as well. I know what you're hunting; I'll let you know if I come across something."

Asterra looked down at the piece of paper.

 _ **Don't you dare. You have enough oaths already. Any more and you will trip over everything and become ensnared.**_ Her reptile brain's hiss was cold at the back of her brain.

Her hand paused midair. After a moment it took the paper, ripped the blank half off, and wrote the kobriyet's number. "Here."

Ponzu beamed and typed the number into her phone immediately.

Time passed quickly after that. Breakfast was done in a flash, and soon she was chatting with Ponzu at the nearest train door while waiting for the train to pull into Shaklis station.

"Let's keep in touch, all right?" Ponzu said.

"It's going to take me a couple days to reply if you call."

"That's fine—as long as I can reach you," Ponzu smiled. "But seriously, get a cellphone ASAP."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I mean it! It's hard to get by without one outside of Sanaar." The train came to a stop, and the door opened. Ponzu stepped out. "Let me know when you get to Mukuroo. And when you get home."

"Are you my mother?"

"I'll have you know I make an excellent mom-friend."

Asterra smiled as the train conductor began to announce the departure. "Fine. I'll report my arrivals."

"That's the spirit. See ya around, Asterra."

The doors closed, and Ponzu waved with an exaggerated motion from the platform.

The Resca waved back in tight motions, not stopping until she lost sight of Ponzu amongst the other colors of the platform.

* * *

**And that wraps up this chapter. Thanks for reading, as always!**

**Resca culture 101**

**Vok o garei, tul dan ag Dorei— "Awaken or die, Fate is the Spirits' game." A chant said before partaking in a battle. Awaken in this case means "get into battle mode" and does not refer to rising from sleep. The second part indicates that your survival is not guaranteed. As a whole, it is a call to focus on the present and do your best to survive, because who knows what will be thrown at you out there and you need to stack the deck in your favor as much as possible. Often shortened to "Vok o garei."**


	36. Catharsis

January 30, noon

"Mom, look! Deer!" A child pointed excitedly out the window at group of deer grazing near the side of the road.

Why was the child so excited? They were not particularly strange-looking deer; bigger than average, perhaps, but otherwise typical. Perhaps the boy lived in the city, where such animals were rare. His interest in the world outside his window was surprising; other children on the Lamentation Bust Tour were fixated on rectangular screens of some sort.

After using the opportunity to observe who was sitting behind her, Asterra shifted her weight in the bus seat and turned forward once more. She was currently in a tour bus that ran from ran from Mukuroo Town to the front gates of the Zoldyck estate. It left once a day at noon, and Asterra's late arrival in Mukuroo yesterday had prevented her from going to the estate on the same day. She had considered trekking but walking thirty miles in the two hours before nightfall was impossible. So instead she had stayed bought a ticket for today's tour and spent the night at a local hostel.

"Lamentation Bus Tour" was a misnomer. The facilities were clean, the workers bright and cheery. If there was anything to lament, it was that the guide's background information on the Zoldyck family was superficial at best. While it was appropriate for the casual interest tourists held, Asterra desired a well-detailed intelligence report complete with a detailed map of the grounds, points of entry, the routes taken by guards, and the shift schedules of guards. Otherwise, the tour was worth the cost as a scenic tour. The bus ran skillfully on precariously paved curving roads that hugged the mountains, allowing tourists to see grandiose tapestry of stone and forest the Dentora region prided itself on.

There was a crescendo of excited cries as Kukuroo mountain appeared on the right side. It was a grey mountain that stood taller than its peers, crowned by a ring of darkened clouds surrounding the peak. According to the guide it was 12,300 feet tall and surrounded by a large, untouched forest. The Zoldyck manor was located somewhere on the mountain, but nobody had ever seen the manor before nor any of its inhabitants—a family of ten, consisting of a great-grandfather, grandfather, grandmother, mother, father, and five children. All were, of course, assassins.

Spirits, why was she here again?

The bus pulled to a stop and the tourist guide cheerily beckoned the tourists to disembark.

"That's the front door?" Kikiri gaped. "These people have way too much money."

What greeted the tourists was a marvel of stone architecture known as the Door to Hades. It was a series of gates, embedded within each other, and a number decorated the top of each door. Ornate dragons bordered the edges of the door, as if they were trying to climb to the heavens but trapped within bronze. Two dragons bordered the top of the gate and faced each other.

According to the tour guide, the entrance was through the door beside the security checkpoint located to the lower right corner of the gates. Odd, since Leorio had mentioned they were training to open a door that weighed several tons. The small door did not look to weigh more than a couple hundred pounds. The doors with the dragon motifs must be the doors that had to be opened in order to enter the grounds unscathed. Asterra walked over to the security checkpoint Leorio had described yesterday and peeked in. "Excuse me?"

Sitting at the counter reading a magazine was a stocky old man with no hair on the top of his head and a mole near his left nostril. He looked up from his magazine. "Yes?"

"Hello, my name's Asterra. I'm here to visit Killua. I was told that the security guard, Zebro, would let me in."

"Oh!" The man's small eyes lit up. "Yes, that's me. Gon spoke about you. Please, come in. I can't let you in the grounds until the tour bus leaves, but I can at least offer you some tea."

 _ **Poison, hypnotic, paralytic. What is or is not in it?**_ "I'm all right for the moment," Asterra replied as she sat in the extra chair Zebro had pointed out. "Thank you, though."

The tourists did not stay long, and once the bus left Zebro made a phone call. "Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio will be arriving soon to see if they can open the gate," he said.

"It's the gate with the dragons, right?" she asked.

Zebro nodded.

"How heavy are they?"

"The first set of gates is four tons total. From there, the weight doubles. Master Killua was able to open up to the third gate."

"Sixteen tons, huh." Having impossibly heavy gates was certainly one way to keep unwanted visitors out. No wonder the Zoldycks could afford to live despite their presence being a highly public one bordering on tourist attraction. She leaned forward to look at the gates from the doorway. "Have they managed to even crack it open?"

"No, unfortunately," Zebro admitted. "But they are becoming stronger. And I won't give up as long as they don't."

"I see Gon has you under his spell."

"Isn't that what brought you here as well?"

Before she could reply, a large grumbling sound of stone scraping on stone caught her attention, and she saw the doors opening. Four individuals walked out. Three she recognized, one she did not—a tanned man with spiky brown hair and eyebrows shaped like seagulls in flight. The three she knew wore black vests over their clothes.

"Ah, there's Seaquant," Zebro said.

"Asterra! You came!" Gon immediately turned towards the guardhouse and grinned. "See, Kurapika?"

The Resca walked out to meet him. "I gave you my word."

Kurapika stopped behind Gon. "Forgive me for not holding my breath. I don't associate honor with thieves."

"What a coincidence; I don't expect acceptance from bigots." Asterra gave him a sardonic smile. "Trip was _great_ , Blondie. Thanks for asking."

"Asterra," Kikiri scolded.

The Resca growled in response to the chiding. "So, bring me up to speed. What's happened?"

In short, not much. The three were still in the process of building up enough strength to open the door, and Gon's arm had not healed yet. Asterra put her hand on the stone and looked up at the tall, dark gates. The slate-like material was cool underneath her palm, chilled by the cold Padokea air.

Killua had the ability to open it up to the third gate. The other three were still training, and she had not even begun. But still, the desire needled her. She may have only been half-Resca, but she had inherited all of their enhanced physical features. _I wonder how far I can go?_

"Get off a moment. I want to see what I'm up against," she said to Kikiri on her shoulder. The Dokujo complied and she dropped her sweatshirt to the side.

"What? But you haven't even done any training yet!" Leorio said.

 _I've done six years of it, Leorio._ A quick roll of the shoulders and stretching of the arms provided a sufficient warm-up. Asterra gazed at the crack between the two doors and slowed her breathing. She placed two hands on the door and planted her feet, then _shoved._

The stone didn't budge. It simply absorbed the force she applied as if mocking her. She gritted her teeth, lowered her posture, and summoned as much strength as possible from her legs. Still the door did not budge. She pushed herself off the door with a violent curse, taking a few steps back and loosening her arms.

"If you're trying to show off, it's not working," Kurapika said.

_Spirits grant me patience, or I will be ripping Blondie's head off in a few days._

The Resca stood in front of the doors again and pushed once more, to no avail. However, that only served to fire up her competitive spirit even more. She had the blood of warriors running through her veins and had been one of the strongest Trainees. Killua, as tiny as he was, had opened up to the third gate. Opening up a stupid door should not have been this hard.

The static electricity that had been building up around her skin cracked.

Fire unfurled from her chest and shot through her arms, her legs. With it came a furious strength, a moment of invincibility that threatened to make her giddy. The gate creaked open slightly.

"Oh," Zebro said.

She brought her foot forward and planted it firmly, her posture now almost in a lunge. The door acquiesced to her pushing and continued to open. Two inches became three. Three became four.

"Go Asterra, go!" Gon cheered.

She grinned. Perhaps they would not have to spend much time after all.

Or maybe they would, because intrusive images slammed into her concentration with the fury of a stampeding bull. It was the memory-like non-memories from the exam, when she had beat Ezo, that seemed to accompany the fire in her limbs. The bleeding, familiar face, the snarling man on the floor, the sneering grins of the men in black. Everything hurt, somebody was crying, somebody was roaring, the dull sounds of flesh beating on flesh seeped through the wooden door, they were telling her to hurt the one in front of her, they were they were they were—

Fear bubbled up, entered her throat, made her want to vomit.

_NO!_

There was a whiplash—like someone had let go of a rubber band stretched for too long—and everything closed down on her again. Cold claws dug deep into the fire in her limbs. The fire struggled furiously, fighting for each inch of ground it was being forced to give back. But even it couldn't fight for an eternity, and it screamed with fury as it was dragged back into its cage in her chest and the door was slammed shut.

The strength dissipated, and she couldn't fight the force applied by the gate anymore. Stone moved at an alarming pace to close the opening. It shoved her backwards, overwhelming her and knocking her off balance. Concrete slammed into her shoulder blades and she slid backwards a foot. She spat out an oath as she sat up, wiping clammy perspiration from her face.

Kikiri bounded over to her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She rubbed her temple; her head throbbed, like someone had just bashed her head with a club.

"That was awesome!" Gon cheered.

"Holy shit," Leorio breathed. "Are you for real?"

 _That phrase again._ "I exist, don't I?" She rose to her feet and stepped aside to let the others try.

"How...why?"

"I can't give you an answer if you don't give me a coherent question."

"I can see why you couldn't wait for her to come," Zebro said to Gon.

"That wasn't the reason I couldn't wait, but sure," the boy grinned back.

Kurapika and Leorio had no better luck than she did at opening the door. After half an hour of trying to no avail, the group went home. Along the way, Gon debriefed her on what had occurred in the past week and a half, including the strength regimen training the trio had undergone.

"So I've got some catching up to do, then." The Resca smiled, something bubbling up within her at the challenge. People were difficult, but physical obstacles? Here was something she could throw herself against. Be it boulders or mountains, she was a Resca. That gate would move, sooner or later. "Where do I get one of those vests?"

"I can give you one when we return to the cabin," Zebro replied.

They returned to a reasonably sized log cabin, with furniture made of the same wood as the outside. It was comfortably furnished.

Zebro brought over a vest. "This vest is 110 pounds. Please wear it at all times except when you are sleeping. We'll make it heavier as you become accustomed to it."

She put on the vest and felt its weight immediately. Not enough to crush, but heavy enough to feel herself being pushed into the ground.

"The house's items weigh over forty-five pounds apiece. For example, the cups are forty-five pounds and the teapot is ninety pounds."

So, it was immersion training except with strength instead of languages. Asterra grasped the cup and attempted to lift it to her mouth, but the cup stayed stubbornly on the table and her arm jolted at the resistance. She let go of the cup for the moment, then placed one hand under the cup while wrapping around the cup with the other and brought it up to her mouth. The cup was manageable; it was going to be interesting using a fork with two hands to eat, though.

"Not bad at all. You're doing better than your friends on their first day." Zebro laughed. "After dinner, I'll show you to the room you can use."

Asterra nodded and placed the teacup carefully back on the table despite being tempted to let it fall out of her hands.

=o=o=o=

February 8th

The days fell into a routine. The morning consisted of waking up and struggling to eat breakfast with forty-five-pound utensils. After exchanging snide words with Kurapika, the three Hunters would train through various mundane tasks such as chopping wood using weighted axes and lifting heavy furniture until around one o'clock in the afternoon. They would have an hour for lunch and rest, by which time the daily tourists would have left and they would be able to attempt opening the Testing Gates.

It was during one such attempt by Leorio that Seaquant butted in. "This ain't gonna work," Seaquant said. "You kids need to wake up."

"Then why don't you quit gawkin' and get back to work?!" Leorio snarled.

"Gon is one of us, and he wishes to see his friend. It's only right that we help him," Kurapika said. "We will open this door, no matter what."

After a moment's pause, Seaquant clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Then start using your brain. Mike and that door doesn't care if all three of you work together to open it. Coordinate your pushing." Seaquant gave Asterra and Kurapika a pointed look. "Not that it's going to work with the bad blood between you two."

Asterra crossed her arms and looked to the side to see Gon looking at her with puppy dog eyes.

_Spirits, he isn't going to—_

"So we have to get you two to be make up," Gon said.

She felt the glare from behind digging into her scalp. "That's not an option."

"Gon, I can't reconcile with a wild animal," Kurapika said flatly.

"Wild animal?" She laughed. "Are you running out of insults, Blondie? I've been called worse."

"Whoever raised you obviously failed to teach you morals—doesn't that make you no better than a beast?"

The laughter died in her throat at those words. Asterra's right hand curled into a fist.

"Come on, not again…" Leorio stepped in between the two, arms outstretched as if to keep the two at bay. "Guys, seriously, let's calm down…"

"Leorio, move. My quarrel's with the self-righteous son of a bitch behind you." Her foot slid back. "If you don't get out of the way, you will get hurt."

"Come on, this isn't the best way to solve this," Leorio replied.

A cynical smile crossed her face. "Maybe. But it's the way I know best."

A bead of sweat trailed down Leorio's face.

"Last chance."

"Asterra, this isn't a good way," Kikiri pleaded. "Come on."

Leorio didn't move.

 _Fine then._ Asterra lunged forward.

The vest weighed her down more than it should have—Kurapika managed to block her strike with his forearm. He still went sliding backwards several feet.

When he lowered his arms, Scarlet Eyes were glaring at her.

_Here we go._

Kurapika's first strike was a jab to her face that she barely managed to redirect. She stepped around him and landed a blow to his right kidney. He staggered forward with a grunt, then an elbow came flying back at her. It was faster than anticipated and hit her squarely in the nose.

A couple jumps to separate them, and she risked shrugging off the vest—but within that moment, Kurapika had closed the gap. His foot sped towards her chest and it slammed into her hasty guard.

Kurapika's hand shot at her like a viper. Pale fingers dug into her shoulder and shoved sharply, knocking her off balance. Gravity dragged her down, but like _hell_ she was going down alone. She grabbed the front of Kurapika's shirt in a grapple and wedged her leg in between them, placing one foot against his chest. Both combatants tumbled down towards the ground, a tangle of limbs and snarls.

Her back slammed into the floor; in the next moment she rolled backwards and kicked Kurapika off, sending him flying over her head. She rolled over her shoulder into a kneeling stance and whirled around. Kurapika used one hand to break his fall and pushed off in a flip, landing on his feet with a catlike grace. The moment his feet touched the floor, he threw off his vest with one hand and charged her with a growl.

 _Interesting; another frontal attack?_ The Scarlet Eyes may have enhanced Kurapika's physical capabilities, but his creativity suffered in exchange. Kurapika had good foundational technique and instincts for combat, but his real strength was in strategy. It was his mind that made him a methodical and skilled fighter that warranted caution. The current Kurapika warranted caution for a different reason—his Scarlet Eyes had sent him into a frenzy, akin to a shark on the trail of wounded prey. The Kurta's words at the Trick Tower had been accurate.

_And you call me a wild animal. Hypocrite._

Kurapika landed a roundhouse kick to her side that crashed into her block. He planted his foot, then continued to spin, smoothly transitioning into a heel kick with his other foot. She felt the wind cut across her face as she leaned back to avoid the kick and transitioned into a backflip to gain some distance.

Yells entered her ears, but the message was lost upon her. All that mattered was the threat in front of her, and how to eradicate it in the most efficient manner. Her breaths came in huffs, quicker than expected. Her mind whirred with possibilities, images and experiences from the past layering on top of the present to formulate a plan for the future.

When Kurapika charged at her again, she redirected one blow and wove through his arms to land a hit on his mouth. He staggered but was prevented from falling backwards by Asterra's firm grip on his arm. Her other arm snaked over Kurapika's shoulder, grabbing the material at the base of his neck. Her right foot hooked Kurapika's and swept it out from under him. The youth lost his balance, and she used the momentum to shove him to the ground.

Kurapika's back hit the earth with a hiss of pain. She slammed her knee into his side as she pulled up on his arm, hard, to expose his side. Her other fist coiled back, ready to descend—

—but it didn't. A grip of iron clamped around her wrist and prevented her arm from moving.

 _Another enemy?_ She whirled on the force behind her, her teeth bared in a snarl. But it was not an enemy that held her arm back.

It was Gon.

" _Stop_." The command was simple, the malice was nonexistent. But the look in Gon's eyes still sent a chill down her spine.

 _ **Danger, danger. Do not anger.**_ Her reptile chittered anxiously. Asterra snapped her wrist out of his grasp—a surprisingly difficult task—and leaped away from Kurapika, landing in a crouch near Leorio. Blood dripped from her nose down her chin. When the Kurta rose to lunge at her again, Gon stepped in and yanked on his arm, making the youth jolt and fall to his knees.

"Let me go, Gon!" Kurapika snarled.

"No. I'm sick of this," Gon said. "Why are two being so mean to each other? This isn't what friends do!"

"We are _not_ friends," Kurapika hissed.

"Good to know we agree on something," Asterra chuckled darkly.

"You both want to save Killua don't you?"

The two looked down.

"Don't you?!" Gon demanded.

Kurapika and Asterra nodded.

"Then stop making this about yourselves. Make this about Killua! We can't save him if we don't get past this door. We'll take forever to open this door if we don't work together, and by then it could be too late!"

Kurapika yanked his arm out of Gon's grip, rubbing blood away from a split lip. His eyes flashed, red, grey, red, grey, until they finally stayed their normal color.

After checking to see her nose wasn't broken, Asterra wiped the blood away with the back of her hand. There was a burning sensation at the pit of her stomach, one that itched at her legs and made her want to bolt. Kikiri climbed onto Asterra's shoulder.

"Why don't you four take the rest of the day off?" Zebro's words cut through the awkward silence. "All of you have been training extremely hard for the last few days—you're bound to be tired."

"It's not a problem," Asterra said.

Zebro's kind eyes sharpened. "Miss Asterra, might I remind you that you just started a brawl with Kurapika? That kind of relationship is not conducive to your progress. I strongly suggest taking a break."

Zebro's tone left no room for argument. The two combatants put on their vests again. The elderly sentry opened the door and the five set upon the path back to the cabin.

Finally, Asterra couldn't tolerate the itching in her legs anymore. "Zebro, does anything else that can eat me live on the grounds? Except for Mike."

"Not to my knowledge, no," Zebro replied.

"I'm going to go take a hike. I'll be back before dark." Asterra walked off.

Nobody stopped her.

=o=o=o=

After alternating between walking and running for ten miles, Asterra doubled back to the Gates of Hades.

"Really? _Really?"_ Kikiri said. "Why are we doing this? This is stupid."

Asterra shed her sweater and weighted vest. "Because there is no way Kurapika's going to call a truce with me. I just need a couple more days until I can open this door by myself. The other three can work together."

"Remember what you did the first day here? You had a splitting headache for two days after that. You even took medicine for it!"

"That's not guaranteed to happen again."

Kikiri made an exasperated noise. "Knock yourself out."

Asterra cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders. Her stance widened into one of strength, then laid her palms against the door. The gate was double hinged, which meant it could open in both directions and explained the self-closing function it had. Zebro's absence did not have to prevent her from practicing.

She shoved.

Similar to before, the door seemed to swallow up any force she produced. But that thrill in her arms, the furious strength, returned once more. The door cracked open, to a greater degree than before.

But once more the terror, nausea, and dread hit her like a tidal wave. It slammed down on the thrill with the fury of a water gate, and suddenly she was being shoved back. Asterra leaped out of the way, and the gate boomed as it shut.

"Shit," she hissed, then tried again. But the attempt ended in the same way as the last—that burst of strength cut short by an almost paralyzing fear and nausea.

Her attempts blurred together, and night threatened to fall. But even after several hours of trying to coax that strength out and prolong it for as long as possible, she was no further than she had been before.

"Asterra, come on, let's go home!" Kikiri whined pitifully. "I'm hungry, and Zebro said he'd give me fresh pork!"

"One more shot," she panted. "I think I can get it." She planted herself firmly in the ground. The thrill shot through her limbs. Then came nausea, then dread, then the sound of static crackling across her skin. The door opened once more. All as expected.

The pain, though, was not expected.

It rushed down her arms and legs, following the sensation of her skin splitting. Mists of blood spurted around her bandages. Following that pain like a one-two punch was a sharp needling sensation that lanced through the front part of her brain.

A scream tore itself from her throat, and she barely managed to leap away in time before the gate slammed shut in her face as a final insult.

Kikiri was over to her in a flash. "Asterra?!"

The pile of limbs lying on the soil in a crumpled heap answered with controlled breaths, evidence of a person trying to reign in pain. It was several minutes before Asterra sat up. Dread prevented her from looking too closely at her bandages, because what she had felt was the same sensation as when her nodules had ruptured. She hoped that the pink color on her bandages was the sunset and not blood.

It took more effort than it should have to stand. Ultimately it was a wasted effort, because Asterra tumbled into the nearest tree and leaned against it for support.

Just before she could push off the tree to walk, though, Kikiri broke the silence. "We need to talk."

Spirits, it was the mother hen tone. She was not in the mood to deal with this, especially with the growing headache that both pulsed and stabbed at her brain. "No, we don't." Asterra peeked underneath the bandages and breathed a sigh of relief. There were wounds, yes, but they were nothing more than papercut-like lacerations scattered across her skin. Taking a shower would sting, but she would not require IV antibiotics.

"Yes, we do."

She started to walk towards the cabin. "No, we don't."

There were popping sounds of Kikiri elongating, and suddenly she couldn't take another step. She toppled to the ground, caught in Kikiri's strangle hold.

"Dammit, Kikiri!" she snarled. "Let me go!"

"Are you going to make me poison you too?" He snarled back. "Because I will if it means having this conversation!"

 _Oh for fuck's sake…_ Asterra did not have resistance to Kikiri's poison, likely because he had not bit her enough to build her immunity. "Fine, fine! I give up."

Kikiri withdrew from her, and she stood up again. The Dokujo sat on a branch so that he could see eye to eye with her.

Asterra rubbed her temples. "So, what is it? Say your two jennies."

"Your fight with Kurapika—Why did you do it?"

"He insulted mom and dad. People have killed for lesser reasons, Kikiri. Why is this a problem now?"

"It's always been a problem."

Asterra cocked her head.

"Every time someone pisses you off, every time you get hurt, you respond with aggression and overkill."

"So?"

"SO?!" Kikiri fluffed up. "This isn't healthy, Asterra! It's going to backfire on you one day!"

She crossed her arms, shoulders hunching up. "I'll get stronger. I won't be killed."

"That isn't the point here!" His voice was sharp and shrill, like the warning cries used to scare away predators. "All the fighting, the anger…Does it make you feel better? Does it make the pain go away? Does it?!"

"Shut up."

"No! I've seen you get hurt so, so many times! I've seen you almost get strangled, almost fall to your death…You almost _died_ during the exam from infection! I don't want to see your get hurt when you don't have to!"

Asterra bit her lip, taken by a sudden urge to withdraw into herself and ignore her surroundings. But shoving back violently against that urge was something else.

"Say somet—"

That something else hurtled out of her throat as a roar. "Then what else am I supposed to do?!"

Kikiri, to his credit, did not flinch.

Her throat was closing, frustration forcing itself up from within her chest. It pressed up on her eyes and made her vision blur. At the same time, the urge to lash out swept her up in its claws. She wanted to hurt—either make something hurt more than she did or feel enough physical pain to drown everything else out.

"This"—Asterra raised a fist and pointed at it—"This is all I know! This is what's always worked! I can't do anything else! I was taught to fight and survive, not be a _fucking diplomat_!"

Kikiri did not move. He stood stock still, a pillar of calm in front of the storm made human that threatened to tear its surroundings apart.

The two stared at each other.

Asterra looked away first. Fatigue swept over her, weakened her legs and core. She leaned against a nearby tree, back against the bark, and slid down until her rear hit the soil. Bandaged fingers tangled into her hair and tightened, threatening to tear her scalp off. The roar in her voice was gone, replaced by an infuriatingly shaky voice, and her eyes burned. "How else am I supposed to solve anything?"

"By talking." Kikiri crawled up on her knees. "I know you can do it! You did it with Ponzu in the train. This isn't any different."

"This isn't Ponzu. I don't understand Kurapika."

"What makes you say that?"

"He…" she paused to think. Her brows furrowed.

"You don't know, do you?"

Asterra bit her lip.

"You don't understand him because you don't know anything about him. You don't know anything about him because you don't talk to him. You don't talk to him because you don't understand him. This is a vicious cycle, Asterra. One that needs to be broken before things get out of control."

She brought her knees to her chest and gripped her legs tightly. Her head leaned forward until her forehead rested upon her knees.

Kikiri's voice was soft. It rained down from above, as he moved to Asterra's shoulder. "Don't let him be another person you beat up and leave to die in a forest. Maybe you couldn't be more than that during Training, but you can start being more _now_."

 _As if._ Old habits died hard, and hope was traitorous. "I can't. I can't be better. I'm stuck."

"You're only as stuck if you think you are. There's nothing saying you have to feel like this forever."

Her shoulders shook, and a lump welled up in her throat.

It was hard to imagine a better or even different self. She had felt like this for a long time now—restless, cold, desperate. This was her _normal_ , dammit. This was what had allowed her to survive the past six years. How could she throw away what had allowed her to succeed? How else was she supposed to live?

Spirits, she was an absolute _mess_. Training was supposed to have beat these aspirations out of her and made her stronger for it. She was supposed to be cool, professional, and always in control. She was supposed to not feel, just think and act. But ever since she had left Training, left Mereta, all the things that were supposed to have died had risen from the grave. Fear and nerves hounded her every step, and emotions burst out haphazardly like steam from between cracks in stone. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. _I need to fix this, shut it down, bury it._

"If you bury it, you'll blow up."

Asterra looked up at Kikiri. "What?"

"You said you should shut it down and bury it. Knowing you, it's about your feelings."

 _Did I say that out loud?_ Was she losing control of her faculties now? Asterra groaned and placed her forehead on her knees again. "...Do you think I can be more?"

"Yep."

"…Why do you believe in me, Kikiri?"

"Well, you're not going to be doing it anytime soon. Someone's gotta do it."

She glared at him.

"Do you know how much I wish that was a joke?" he asked. "Now come on. Nothing's going to start if we just keep sitting here. I'll be there with you, every step of the way. We'll figure it out together, yeah?"

Asterra raised her head, exhaled, and nodded. Wiped the salt out of her eyes, pushed past the fatigue in her legs to stand up and walk.

Because Kikiri was right—nothing would start unless she acted.

=o=o=o=

Gon, Leorio, Kurapika, and Zebro were putting away dishes when she arrived back at the cabin.

"Welcome back," Zebro said. "There's leftover stew and rice in the fridge. Help yourself."

Asterra nodded, then caught Kurapika's eye. When the blonde turned away, she walked up to him and said, "I want to clear the air. I don't care if it's privately or here."

There were more elegant ways to start this conversation, surely. Then again, she had never really been an elegant person to begin with. Asterra could feel three sets of eyes on her neck, and Leorio was gaping at her. "What?" she snapped.

Kurapika finished putting away a plate. "Why now?"

Kikiri poked her neck encouragingly.

The words lodged themselves in her throat, and she had to force them out. "Because I can't open the door by myself. I…I want to help the little git, and to do that I need your help. Everyone's help. And it won't start unless we call a ceasefire."

A moment of silence as Kurapika scrutinized her. Ages seemed to pass before he finally said, "Fine."

Leorio and Gon looked at each other.

Zebro filled up a cup of tea then set the teapot aside. "I'll give you all some privacy." He left the room.

Kurapika sat down at the dinner table, and Asterra sat across from him. Leorio and Gon brought a pot of tea over and gave each person a cup. It felt strange—like setting the stage for a play.

Leorio stood at the head of the table. "All right, let set some ground rules here. Say what you want, but let's be civil and not interrupt each other. I'll mediate, and we'll continue until differences are settled. Good?"

"You going to ground us if we don't follow the rules, Mom?" Asterra replied.

"For crying out loud, I'm trying to help you. Cut the sarcasm."

"Leorio's right." Kikiri sat on the table near Leorio's arm. "And no violence."

"Yes, no fighting," Gon nodded. "So, who first?"

"Rock paper scissors. Winner goes first," Leorio said.

The two played, and Kurapika won.

"Okay, you first Kurapika. What's bothering you?"

"I've made myself clear this entire time," Kurapika replied. "I take affront to Asterra's lack of morals, as evidenced by her penchant for stealing and violence. She stole the sword from the Trick Tower, looted a dead applicant's belongings, and uses violence to solve her problems on a regular basis."

"You'd be half-dead right now if I had decided to solve this with violence," Asterra said.

"Asterra, no." Kikiri swiped at her hand, and she withdrew her hand.

"You tried that earlier today," Kurapika replied, eyes cold. "You can't beat me into submission."

"Never too late for round two," she replied with a flash of teeth.

"AND CUT!" Leorio thrust his arm between the two. "So Kurapika, you don't like Asterra's conduct because it doesn't seem moral."

"Correct," Kurapika nodded.

"All right, you next, Asterra."

"I take issue with Blondie's preachy attitude. He draws conclusions without even knowing me and brings my parents into problems that aren't even related to them. I defend myself but it's like I'm talking to a wall."

"So you feel attacked. But when you try to explain yourself to Kurapika, you don't feel like you're being understood."

"I…guess?" She frowned, then nodded. "Yes." _That's scary accurate, actually._

"What is there to know about a thief?" Kurapika asked.

Leorio looked at the youth like he wanted to strangle him for a moment, then smoothed over his expression. "Kurapika, you do not have to have the last word every time…" he muttered.

Asterra, on the other hand, transitioned into offense. "What is it with you and calling me a thief? I requisitioned supplies from a corpse and the Trick Tower, yes."

"It was stealing," Kurapika said.

"It was _survival,_ " she snapped back. "If they wanted the damn weapon back so much they would've said something. And corpses don't need to eat."

"Just because somebody doesn't miss something doesn't mean it's not stealing."

"If they don't miss something it means they don't need it. What's the problem with rearranging items to maximize their use?"

"It wasn't yours to begin with. And you've stolen once. What's to prevent you from stealing what someone else needs?"

"Asterra, Kurapika—" Gon started.

A bandaged fist slammed into the table with enough force to make the teacups bounce. "By the Spirits, what do you want from me?!" Asterra snarled. "I've explained my reasons, multiple times, in Basic. You speak Basic. There should be no communication issues. But no matter how much I explain, you don't hear me."

Kurapika continue to glare at her. His eyes flickered.

"Like that!" She gestured at him. "I could explain until my tongue falls off, but it just makes your eyes put on a lightshow. Why? Do I look like the fucking Phantom Troupe or something!?"

Kurapika's eyes burned scarlet.

She tensed, and images cropped up in her mind—ways to retaliate if Kurapika reached for her using teapots, tables, and her fists. At the same time a single word echoed in her mind.

Phantom Troupe.

The words had been an accident—a name she drew on a whim out of her mind as something she knew he hated. But they stirred up memories from the beginning of the Hunter Exam, when motivations for becoming a Hunter were exchanged. Of one particular sentence from Kurapika.

" _They killed all of my kin and took every single eye from their corpses."_

And as he continued to glare at her with unfiltered hate, realization dawned upon her. The rationale behind the relentless animosity, the bitterness, the flash of scarlet when a snide exchange threatened to escalate. If what she had theorized was the cause, it would make sense why he had objected so strongly to requisitioning supplies from a corpse.

"You think I'm no better than the Phantom Troupe," she said.

Kurapika shifted his weight in the chair.

"You weren't there when your clan was wiped out. You just saw the aftermath. But when I requisitioned supplies from the sniper, it was similar to how you imagined the Phantom Troupe taking eyes from your kin."

Gon, Leorio, and Kikiri's heads snapped towards Kurapika.

Kurapika's shoulders shook. It was all the affirmation she could hope to receive from a fellow stoic, but it was sufficient.

Her mind went blank, words drying up as the rage that had fueled her dissipated. She had found the issue, great. But how the hell was she supposed to get out of this problem? How was she supposed to convince someone to work with her when he thought she was no better than his sworn enemy?

_Oh, for Spirits' sake, someone do something. I have no idea where to go from here._

It was Leorio that answered her prayers. "Kurapika, is Asterra right?"

The blonde took a deep breath, then reached for his cup of tea. "Yes."

"Then what would it take for Asterra to convince you that she's not the Phantom Troupe?"

Kurapika sipped tea to think. "Back in the fourth exam phase, Kikiri said to not judge you until you told your story. So tell me it now. Convince me you're not a spider that needs to be exterminated."

She knew what story he was referring to—Training. "And that'll help?"

"No guarantees."

Her heart pounded; her intestines twisted into knots.

She had never told anyone else about what had happened during Training. Only Kikiri knew, by virtue of being there the entire time, because she loathed to let anyone know that side of her. Hell, she had tried to forget it herself, bury it deep in the cemetery that was the past. But secrets were like artifacts, apparently. No matter how long ago they had been buried or thrown away, even if they were nothing more than scraps and shards, someone would come dig them up eventually.

And that someone was Kurapika, accompanied by Leorio and Gon.

" _Vok o garei_ ," she whispered. _Spirits grant me strength_. A breath to help instill some calm, then another to gather her thoughts. She would have to be very careful with her words—an oath six years old prevented her from speaking about Wraiths and the exact details of how she was Trained. She gripped the fabric of her sweatshirt tight to prevent her hands from shaking. "I told you I had six years of military training, didn't I?"

Kurapika nodded.

"That training was designed to make soldiers that would go where nobody wanted to go and would come back alive regardless. It did that by creating an adverse environment." She ruffled her hair. "By starving us."

"That...seems counterproductive," Kurapika said. "But continue."

"We got one meal a day—lunch. It was never enough. But if we met certain goals, if we ranked higher than our peers, we got more food. Naturally, there started to be a rift—the naturals, who stayed well-fed, and the untalented."

"And you were a natural, weren't you?" Gon asked.

"No. I starved."

Gon's eyes widened.

"I was gullible, and I didn't want to hurt anyone. Wanted to be a good kid. It backfired." She crossed her arms. "I turned into a stick. I was useless in drills, which meant I got no food and earned beatings from teammates. Kikiri had to feed me, but I could barely keep anything down. I thought I was going to die."

"What...happened?" Leorio asked.

"I woke up."

Kurapika leaned forward slightly. "Meaning…?"

"I realized nobody would protect me and no rules would save me. I realized humans live at the expense of others."

 _ **Yes, yes. They crush the weak and feed on them.**_ Her reptile brain's voice slithered in her mind, its words a rhythmic whisper. _ **They band together for temporary benefits, only to betray and devour each other as soon as the hunger becomes too much to bear. In the end, you are alone. And alone you will always be.**_

"I realized I am the only one that will always be there for myself. I have to be the strongest, the fastest, the most ruthless to survive, like I promised to my parents." Her tone was flat, businesslike. But the words were a torrent, running wild similar to water finally free of a dam, and it unnerved her. She was losing control again, unable to filter her words so that she told just enough without revealing too much. It didn't help that Gon was staring at her with brown eyes filled with...something.

"I was too weak to be kind and strong, so I became something to be feared. I stole food to become stronger. I sabotaged others' chances so I would rank higher. When people stole from me, I hunted them down and took double from them. When they beat me, I ambushed them while they slept."

Kurapika narrowed his eyes. "Did you kill?"

"…I didn't take anyone's lives. Took their futures, though."

"Clarify."

They all came back—memories of breaking bodies, of leaving broken bodies. Memories of voices pleading for mercy, of voices crying for help from loved ones too far away to help. Memories of other Trainees huddling in a corner as one of their "friends" fell to her wrath, of her own desperate satisfaction as she walked away from another neutralized threat, her hand tightly clenched around meager strips of meat.

"I beat three people and left them to freeze. They lost fingers to frostbite and now can't hold weapons."

"Okay, well, that's not too bad..." Leorio said.

 _How long will he be able to keep thinking that?_ "One person is now half-blind because I damaged their eye. Two people have a stump instead of an ear. One girl is so badly scarred she cannot marry; her brother's foot is mangled, leaving him lame. I broke all the bones in a girl's hand with a hammer and now that hand's useless."

Leorio paled.

"I could go on, but you get the gist, no?"

"You've made your point." Kurapika nodded. "I'm surprised you remember them all."

"It's not something you easily forget." She straightened her posture. "So yes, Blondie—"

"Call him by name, Asterra," Kikiri said.

" _Kurapika,_ " she ground out through clenched teeth. "I'm a fucked up individual capable of doing fucked up things. But it's for a reason, and I don't do it without cause. And it is _not_ my parent's fault. They raised me fine; I was the one that strayed off the path." _Shit, shit, that last sentence was unnecessary. Why did I say that?_

Kurapika drank his tea and deliberated. Quiet enveloped the two, seemingly shutting out the rest of the world.

There was no way he would make a truce after hearing that. Nobody in their right mind would; doing so would be like making a deal with the Devil. Hell, it wouldn't surprise her if they kicked her out of the house and fed her to Mike to be rid of her.

She normally enjoyed silence. But this time, it made her mind race. Allowed it to entertain thoughts and scenarios.

It was downright agonizing.

...

She had finished running through options of how to fight against three attackers and escape into the woods when Kurapika's words brought her back to reality.

"You're not all lost."

Asterra's head snapped up.

"You steal, you bend the rules, you use violence to solve problems, and most likely lie as well." He looked up at her from his cup. "But you have yet to break a promise."

She lowered her eyes, studying a whorl in the wooden table intently. "Like I said, I don't have much going for me." She wrapped her hands around the cup, feeling the warmth seep into her skin, then looked up. "My word is all I have left. What worth do I have if I break it?"

"That is my point. You refuse to trample on the one thing many are quick to throw away. All is not lost if you still hold something sacred." He sighed. "You have no idea how much I want to demonize you. It would be easier to hate you if I could. But I can't; not completely. Not like the Phantom Troupe."

_Wait, wait, wait. Is he actually—_

"I don't agree with your methods or your philosophy. Chances are, I never will. But so long as you hold others' trust sacred, I will respect you." Kurapika extended his hand to her. "Truce?"

She stared at the hand, dumbfounded. "Just like that?"

"Oh, don't worry; I still have choice words for you. I'll save them for after we help Killua, though." His expression softened ever so slightly. "I apologize for my behavior up until now, and for slandering your parents."

"Fine. Truce it is." She took his hand. "And I…also apologize for my words back on the island. They were…cruel. And for starting that fight today."

Kurapika nodded. "Apology accepted."

A massive cheer erupted from the onlookers.

"Hell yeah!" Leorio's arms swung around Asterra's and Kurapika's shoulders, then brought the two close to him. Asterra started at the sudden proximity.

Kikiri bounded onto her shoulder and rubbed against her neck.

"We can go save Killua now!" Gon's eyes were bright with hope.

"We still don't know if we can open the door," Asterra said.

Leorio grinned at her. "You kidding me? If all of us work together, even if we can't open it tomorrow, we'll have it open this week. Guaranteed!"

"Provided you pull your own weight," Kurapika said.

"What'd you say, punk?!"

"No, not you two now!" Gon pleaded.

=o=

Outside the door to the living room, Zebro smiled as he brought the cup of tea to his lips. "Ah, youth."

"Eavesdropping, Zebro?" Seaquant asked.

"I was curious to see how they would fare."

"Eavesdropping is eavesdropping, no matter the intent."

"I suppose. You should know everything worked out, though."

"I didn't ask."

"Right, of course." Zebro smiled. "It would be unlike you to delay going to guard duty until after their discussion ended. You just happen to be fifteen minutes late for your shift."

"That ain't none of your business, ya sly old coot," Seaquant grunted as he descended the stairs.

Zebro smiled once more. "Ah, youth."

=o=o=o=

February 14, Afternoon

Leorio, Kurapika, and Asterra stood in front of the Testing Gate, stretching out their limbs. The sun shone deceptively bright—little warmth graced the air. Not that it bothered Asterra; she loved the cold.

"Why don't you three take off those vests today?" Zebro suggested. "Throw all of your strength against the gate."

"Yes!" Leorio began to remove his vest. "Music to my ears!"

There were three large thuds as the vests—now two hundred pounds each—dropped to the floor. Each vest made a small crater where they made contact with the floor.

Asterra rolled her neck and stretched. It was strange having the vest off while it was still light outside—she felt lighter, like the wind could pick her up and taker her away to the clouds.

"You two ready for this?" Leorio asked as the three lined up in front of the door.

"More than ready," Asterra replied, cracking her knuckles and placing her palms against the door.

"On three, then," Kurapika said. "One, two, three!"

All three sharply exhaled and pushed. The door remained closed, but slowly acquiesced to their demand. With a groan it cracked open, and Asterra, being in the middle, saw the path on the other side.

_Time to dig deep._

She reached within, to where the fire resided in the depths of her chest and coaxed it to come out. It came willingly, and the static electricity crackled across her skin. With a snarl, the furious strength filled her limbs and the door continued to open more.

And right on cue came the nausea, dread and screaming. The same images filled her headspace once again, threatening to drown her in it. Before it could, she directed her focus towards her physical surroundings—the stone under her hand, the cement under her feet, the smell of the forest. She took one step forward. The door creaked open, and the gap between grew wider.

"Come on, we're almost there!" Leorio said. "Push!"

 _The hell do you think I'm doing?!_ She took another step forward simultaneously with the other two youths. The door creaked open another inch.

And then, she couldn't maintain the pressure anymore. Pain ricocheted across her arms and legs, and she bit down on the scream that threatened to escape her throat. Any distraction would invite failure; she couldn't afford to cry out, no matter how much it hurt.

"Shit, shit, shit! Come on, move! Come on!" Luckily Leorio's swearing was loud enough to cover any auditory signs of weakness from her. The three Hunters grunted in an attempt to summon the strength to move the gates, but the humans and the door were at a standstill.

That was when a flash of green caught her eye. Gon was next to her, hands placed against the door.

"Gon? What about your arm?" Kurapika asked.

"It's all better now!" Gon chirped back. "We just have to push together as one, right?"

Leorio and Kurapika looked at each other, shrugging. "Yep," Leorio said. "So let's do this! One, two, three!"

The four Hunters dug in their heels and threw their entire weight against the door.

There was a moment where the door did not move. The next moment it started to creak again, and again, and again, until the gap was wide enough for Gon to fall through it.

And then, the door was open. Leorio leaned against one of the doors, hid body plastered over it. Kurapika and Asterra leaned against the other door.

"It opened." Gon's mouth was wide in surprise.

"Hell yeah it did!" Leorio fistpumped in the air, only to slump against the door again. Beads of perspiration trailed down his forehead.

"Finally," Kurapika sighed, placing his back against the door to catch his breath. He looked to his left to see Asterra clutching her head with her left hand. She leaned against her right forearm, which was placed against the stone gate. Blood dripped from the fingertips of her right hand.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "You're bleeding."

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, rubbing her temples. That stabbing headache was back again, and it was as bad as the first time. "I ripped a hangnail this morning. Pushing must have made it bleed again." She curled her fingers into a fist before Kurapika could notice that her cuticles were fine. The blood was likely from the papercut-like wounds that had likely been reopened all up and down her arms. Luckily Gon had jumped in before the wounds could become worse.

"Congratulations, everyone!" Zebro said. "You're all set to go up to the mansion!"

"Thank you, Zebro-san!" Gon said.

"Come back to the house to pack your things, then you can be off."

The group of applicants nodded, walking back to the cabin at a brisk pace. Once they had gathered their luggage, Zebro and Seaquant gathered at the entrance to the house to see them off.

"How do we get to Killua's house from here?" Gon asked.

"Follow the path, and head for the mountain. The mansion is somewhere on the mountain." Zebro gestured towards the path. "I would tell you where it was, but I'm ashamed to admit that even though I've worked here for twenty years I've never been up the mountain. I'm sorry I can't be of more help."

"No, not at all! You've both helped us get so far! Thank you for everything!" Gon bowed. Leorio and Kurapika also bowed, while Asterra nodded her thanks. Gon looked back to the three. "Come on, let's go! Killua's waiting!"

The boy bounced around like a puppy, excitement in his eyes and his steps. The other three Hunters set foot on the path, exhilaration in their step as well.

What monsters or men lay ahead of them, only time would reveal.

* * *

**Thanks for reading :)**

**Rhyss**


	37. Extraction

The obstacle they encountered after fifteen minutes of walking was neither man nor monster, but a dark-skinned girl in a navy-colored suit. A blue-jewel bolo sparkled at her throat. She stood between the two stone pillars that framed the gap in the wrought iron fence, the lone guardian of the path that stretched behind her. 

“Please leave; you’re trespassing on private property.” The girl’s choice of words, neutral expression, and calm demeanor gave the impression of a professional that belied her youthful appearance. “I cannot allow you to pass without permission.”

There was confidence in her stance, in the way she positioned her petite figure made taller by heeled boots. It favored no side and showed a readiness to counter an attack from any angle. 

“Why? We called ahead, and we came in through the Testing Gate,” Gon replied.

“Perhaps, but the butlers did not give you permission to enter,” the girl said. 

“Then what the heck do we have to do get permission? I told the person on the phone I was Killua’s friend and everything, but they still said no.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “No one has ever received permission during my time working here.”

Gon pouted. “Then I guess we’re gonna have to trespass!”

“I suppose. In any case, this is where I draw the line.” Metal scratched against sand as a cane with a yellow bulb on one end etched a line in the path. “Take one step past it and I will remove you by force.”

Leorio and Kurapika tensed and lowered their posture; Asterra looked around to see if there was any way to get through. The wrought iron fence stretching to the left and right did not look like they had electricity running through them. Before anybody could act, though, Gon held up a hand as if to stay their actions and walked towards the butler.

Asterra wondered why he wasn’t using his preternatural speed to zip by the guardian. Perhaps he had a plan, a stroke of creative genius that reared its head in times of need. That thought dissipated as soon as Gon stepped over the line, though; the cane’s yellow bulb blurred and crashed into his face with a large _thwack_ , sending the boy flying. 

Leorio and Kurapika gaped as he went flying over them. Asterra instead backpedaled. _From the way he’s flying, he’s probably going to land...here._ She spread her arms out, and moments later Gon crashed into her chest. She held him tight against her, his momentum slamming into her with enough force to make her ribcage shudder. Rubber soles made trails in the earth as the momentum sent her skidding backwards a few feet, but her balance did not waver. 

“Gon!” Leorio yelled, then drew out his switchblade, dark eyes pinpointed on the figure in front of him. Kurapika drew his wooden swords. Asterra focused on the enemy as well, eyes darting, seeking out a vulnerability. Her eyes flicked down to the boy in her arms upon hearing a whispered “thank-you.” 

“Guys...don’t. I’ll handle this.” Gon tapped on her arm, and she placed him on the ground. He winced, wiping away the blood from his nose, then walked towards the gateway once more. “Look, we didn’t come here to fight anyone. We just want to see Killua.”

The guardian shifted her stance. Her textured dark brown hair, split into multiple bunches by pink hair ties, bounced slightly with the movement. “Your motives don’t matter; it’s my orders that do.”

Gon took off his backpack and walked once more towards the girl. But the moment he stepped over the line in the sand, he was struck in the face once more. He went flying, over their heads, and crashed into Asterra. Once she skidded to a stop, she said, “We should consider an alternative.”

“No, this will work.” Gon tapped her bicep as a signal to put her down. “I know it will.”

It didn’t, of course. Another _thwack_ later Gon was airborne once more. This time, though, he went rolling across the earth in front of the other Hunters. 

“Asterra, aren’t you...?” Kikiri asked. 

“If he insists on being stupid, I’m not going to catch him every damn time,” she replied, arms crossed. 

Kikiri slumped forward. 

“Try as many times as you like. You will not pass.” The guardian flourished her cane. 

“No, I will.” Gon stood up. “I’m going to see Killua!”

=o=o=o=

**February 14 th, evening **

The sun threatened to set and plunge the land into night, yet the series of events still continued. The same repetitive cycle of walk, be struck, roll across the ground, only to rise and walk again. Only two aspects changed: how swollen Gon’s face became—it was currently mottled with bruises and his left eye was swollen shut—and how the guardian’s calm was gradually being eroded away. 

“Stop this! Don’t you realize that this is meaningless?” Frustration colored her voice. She turned her attention to the three Hunters behind him. “And what are you three just standing there for?! You’re his friends, aren’t you?! Stop him!”

Three sets of stony gazes met her, and she recoiled. 

“What’s the big deal, anyway?” Gon muttered. 

The guardian turned towards the boy. 

“I just came here to see my friend. To see Killua. Why do I have to go through all of this!” The boy roared. There was a great crack as his fist collided with the stone pillar. Asterra half-expected Gon to snap his hand back in pain, but it was the pillar that crumbled instead. 

_Damn._

The butler froze, looking between the pillar and Gon. 

“Hey, I’m over the line. Shouldn’t you hit me?” the boy asked. 

The girl raised her staff but did not strike. 

“You’re different from Mike. You may be trying to cover up your feelings, but you still have a heart. I can see it in your eyes—they softened when I said Killua’s name.”

The girl’s mouth was slightly open, and there was a look of not-quite-fear in her grey eyes. Her hands quivered; indecision slowed her movements. After a few moments, she lowered her arms and cast her gaze downward. When she raised her face her eyes were glossy, and tears trailed down her cheeks. Gone was the guardian from before, and in its stead was a young girl overflowing with a great sadness. 

“Please, help him.” Her voice wavered, as if her throat was closing down on her. “Help Master Killua!”

The sudden explosion of malice to Asterra’s left, from the trees, yanked her attention from the guardian. Her body dove for cover behind the stone pillar as the malice hurtled through the air. 

It wasn’t directed at Asterra, though. 

No, it was directed at the girl in front of them. The malice—an orange ball of translucent energy—struck the girl’s temple. There was a sound almost like two wooden blocks slamming into each other, and the girl collapsed. 

“Bloody servant,” a feminine voice said coldly from the trees. “How dare a mere apprentice butler make it sound like we’re being mean to Killua.” 

Asterra snapped her head towards the voices. Amongst the shadows cast by the foliage were two figures. The taller one was a slim woman dressed in a voluminous purple dress covered in frills. A light-colored fascinator hat adorned with white flowers and a pink puffy ball sat atop her head. Her eyes were covered by a visor with a glowing red dot in the middle, and bandages peeked out from underneath. To her side was a smaller figure, dressed in dark Japponese-style robes bordered with white and red flowers. The way the child’s dark hair was cut reminded Asterra of the Japponese doll she had once seen, and the child’s expression was just as unemotional as one. 

What interested Asterra more, though, was the fan the woman held in her left hand. There was no gun, which meant the projectile must have been launched from that object. The fan did look like it was smoking, after all—except with an orange...flame? Ball of energy? What manner of weapon was that? Did all Zoldycks have the power to use it?

The smoke curled in the air and started to disappear. The malice also decreased as well, until it merely simmered instead of boiled and spat. 

Asterra risked a glance to see Leorio, Gon, and Kurapika rushed over to the fallen girl. “What are you doing? Leave her and get cover, now!” She hissed, making sure to keep the stone pillar between her and the woman on the hill. They ignored her, although Kurapika had some sense to continue observing his surroundings. _Spirits, this is how you get killed!_

“You must be Gon. Illumi told me all about you.” Her voice was light and airy—sickeningly so—and a blatantly fake smile was plastered on her face. “Killua is aware that you’ve been on the premises and asked me to relay a message to you.”

Gon’s head snapped up. 

“’Thank you for coming; I’m happy that you did,’” the woman said. “’But I can’t see you right now. I’m sorry.’”

The sentence that had likely been crafted to shut down questions only served to summon a flood of them. _Can’t see us now? Why? And he’s sorry?_ The questions coalesced into another one that sought to measure the credibility of Killua’s supposed message. “And we’re supposed to believe you because...?”

“I’m sorry; how rude of me. I’ve yet to introduce ourselves.” The malice surrounding the woman abated and stilled; it was reflected in her now subdued tone. “I am Killua’s mother. This is Kalluto.”

“Why can’t Killua come see us? Where is he?” Gon asked. 

The woman touched the edge of her fan to her lips. “He’s in solitary confinement.”

“Solitary...confinement?” Leorio echoed, as if checking his hearing. 

“Before running away from home, Killua stabbed his brother and me.”

“We’re aware,” Kurapika replied. “Killua told us.”

“Our Kil regretted what he had done and returned to us. He entered solitary confinement voluntarily. We don’t know when he will choose to leave.”

Asterra frowned. 

“What’s wrong?” Kikiri asked. 

“Something’s not—”

Kikiri bristled and snarled; a sudden electronic beeping sound followed by a gasp that made Asterra peek around the stone pillar. 

The red dot on Killua’s mother’s visor was blinking and pulsing rapidly. The malice around her fluctuated in the same rhythm. The pitch of her voice rose into a near scream full of desperation. “What? No, no, no, what are you doing, Father?! Please, stop! He’s only just returned!”

_Is she going into hysterics? Over what? What is she seeing?_

“Oh, why must you be like this, Father?! Why don’t you understand that this is a critical time for Kil?!” The malice around Killua’s mother continued swell and recede, so much so that it made Asterra seasick. But before it made her sick enough to vomit the waves flatlined. Killua’s mother exhaled in resignation, and her words were said in the same dull tone as before. “Something urgent has come up that I must attend to. Farewell.” 

“Wait, hold on!” Gon cried out. 

Killua’s mother halted and turned around. 

“We’ll be staying in town for a little while. Please let Killua know.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him. Good day.” The woman picked up the material of her dress and proceed to run in the opposite direction. The dress must have been specially made—there was no way she could have moved that well and that quietly in something so frivolous. Perhaps that was to be expected of a female member of the Zoldyck family. 

The child—Kalluto—remained in the shadows. Large pink eyes observed the Hunters with a subdued curiosity, as if they were insects in a museum collection. “Who are you all, exactly?”

“We’re Killua’s friends,” Gon said. 

Kalluto frowned. “Friends?” The syllables left her tongue haltingly, as if they were unfamiliar to her. 

A shriek pierced the twilight. “Kalluto-chan, what are you doing?! Come here, right this instant!”

“Yes, Mother.” Kalluto rushed off, her footsteps as silent as her mother’s.

Once the two were out of sight, Leorio said, “Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, but these people really creep me out. I bet they were lying about Killua not wanting to see us.”

“For once, Leorio has a good point.” Asterra left the safety of the stone pillar and walked towards the other Hunters. “I find it hard to believe the little git would be apologetic for his actions.”

“For once?! I’m full of good points, thank you very much!” Leorio snapped. “Gon, we can’t go back just yet. Maybe we should tail those two.”

“We could.” Gon looked down to the apprentice butler at his feet. “But I’m worried that tailing them could get her into a lot of trouble.”

“Huh, didn’t think of that.”

The girl groaned and gingerly touched her head as she rose. “I will take you to the butler’s quarters. There’s a phone that connects directly to the mansion.” She winced. “If Master Zeno answers it, he might...”

“Who’s Master Zeno?” Gon asked. 

“Master Killua’s grandfather.” The apprentice butler stood up. 

“Are you okay to move?”

“I’m fine. Nothing sleep won’t fix.” She grabbed her cane. “Come on, then. Follow me.”

“Wait, what’s your name?” Gon asked. “I don’t want to call you just ‘you.’”

The apprentice butler looked back to the group. “My name is Canary.”

“Nice to meet you! I’m Gon. That’s Kurapika, Leorio, and Asterra.” Each Hunter nodded as their name was called, and Gon continued to speak. “Canary, won’t you get in trouble for taking us to the butler’s quarters?”

“Everyone on the grounds is no doubt aware of my actions,” she replied. 

Gon straightened. “If something happens, I’ll take responsibility.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’m merely acting as a guide for Master Killua’s friends. I am prepared to face any consequences that may befall me.”

The group started to walk along the path, and Asterra ventured a question. “Killua’s mother mentioned you were an apprentice butler. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Canary nodded. 

“Then you know some insider information about the Zoldycks.”

“I won’t divulge any compromising information on my employers.”

“I’m not asking you to give me dossiers, just to clarify something,” Asterra said. “What is Killua to the Zoldyck family?” 

“Master Killua is a Zoldyck,” Canary replied. “He is the son of the current head of the household.”

“Let me rephrase that, then—what is he _worth_ to his family?”

“What’s the point of asking that?” Leorio asked. 

“Because something’s off,” Asterra replied. “Think about it. Illumi was keen to have Killua come home and drilled into him that he could be nothing more than an assassin. Killua’s mother freaked out when someone disturbed him and is willing to lie to us so Killua can do whatever in this ‘critical time’ of his. They’re fixated on him. They want what they think is best for him. But _if_ what Killua’s mom said was true, they’ve allowed him to lock himself in solitary confinement, which has a negative impact on the human psyche.”

“You’re saying their actions are contradictory,” Kurapika summarized. “Not reflective of a typical family.”

“You grew up in a nice household, didn’t you?” Canary said.

Asterra frowned. What did that have to do with anything? “My parents didn’t shove expectations down my throat or throw me in solitary confinement, no.”

“Not all families follow that convention.” Canary was silent for a few moments, then spoke. “The Zoldycks are a family of assassins. Master Killua showed great promise at a young age, and his family wished to...retain that potential.” 

Asterra paused, digesting the information packaged in a cryptic delivery, then realized the meaning. “He’s the heir to the household.”

Canary did not answer, which was affirmation enough in a situation where trees had eyes and little birds caught every whisper. 

It made sense. Killua, the prodigal son, had rebelled against his family wishes. The family had other plans, so Illumi had drilled into Killua that he could be nothing more, and Killua’s mother was doing everything in her power to keep him away from other distracting influences...all to keep the heir on the path expected of him. 

If Killua was that talented, then it made sense why he was the heir, and why the family was so fixated on keeping him under control. She could see the logic behind their actions. But agreeing with them was a completely different matter, which brought her thoughts to the topic of extraction. 

Where groups of people existed, so did divisions of opinion. Life was a matter of picking out which faction suited her needs best and throwing her weight behind it. Not everybody agreed with the path set in front of Killua—Canary seemed distressed to the point of tears by the boy’s ordeal. That meant there was a possibility that some members of this estate did not agree with the Zoldycks’ methods. The question was, who were those people and how much influence did they have?

Information was power; strategies could only be formulated once the situation was known. But shit, did this situation feel hopeless, even if some of the pieces starting to fall into place. 

She glanced around, wondering if anybody else shared her thoughts. Kurapika likely did—even if their moral codes differed, they shared similar thought processes. The question was whether the ones more adroit at influencing people were on the same page. Gon was a powerhouse at winning people over; Leorio was better at striking deals and mediating, from his actions at Zebro and Seaquant’s cabin. Even if Asterra could ferret out ulterior motives, she knew her charisma left something to be desired. As much as it vexed her, she would have to lean on others for this. 

She rolled her neck and sighed. If only they could ditch Canary for just a minute, she could speak to everyone. But Canary seemed sharp, too sharp to trick.

What a shame. 

=o=o=o=

February 14th, one hour later

When they reached a clearing dominated by a large manor, the Hunters received more of a welcome than Asterra expected. There were five men standing in front of the entrance. The lights were on, giving the place a warm, inviting glow. Unfortunately, the impression was spoiled by the fact they were in the territory of assassins and possibly walking into a trap. 

“Welcome!” The word, simultaneously said by all five individuals, was accompanied by a deep bow. The five were likely butlers since they wore the same attire as Canary, down to the jewel that hung below their collar. 

“We apologize for our previous discourtesies,” a man in the center of the group wearing a red jewel instead of a turquoise one said. He had sharp eyes to match sharp cheekbones, as well as neatly trimmed dark hair and goatee. “We have been informed by the lady of the house that from now on you are to be treated as official guests. My name is Gotoh. Please, come in.”

They were invited into a house with plush carpet the right shade of red for hiding bloodstains. On the walls hung landscape paintings in the Impressionist style, intricately shaped lamps providing light for those that wished to study them further. 

“How much money does Killua’s family have?!” Kikiri squeaked. “This place is so nice!”

 _More like how much blood money._ Being top assassins likely allowed the Zoldycks to charge exorbitant fees. Not that she could say much; many Resca made fortunes from mercenary work. That, and blood money still had the same spending power as money obtained through other ways. 

“Is this the main residence?” Kurapika asked.

“No. It’s the butler’s quarters,” Canary replied. 

They were led down a large corridor and around several corners. Just as Asterra was getting nervous about the distance between them and the front door, a door opened to their right. They were led to a large room lit by a chandelier and sparsely decorated. A large painting hung on the wall over a sideboard made of dark wood. In the middle of the room was a rug with a coffee table in between a settee and a single chair. 

“Please, have a seat and make yourselves comfortable,” Gotoh beckoned as tea was set on the coffee table. 

Asterra looked around. The room had no windows, and four doors. She loathed to sit down in a room surrounded by so many potential enemies and few exits. Unfortunately, the settee had room for four and the butlers were all looking at her expectantly. _Dammit._ She sat down between Leorio and Gon while a butler tended to Gon’s swollen eye with a first aid kit. 

Gotoh sat down in the single chair, while the others stood. It solidified her theory that Gotoh was the one in charge of the butlers. 

“We appreciate the hospitality, but we came to see Killua,” Leorio said. “It would be great if you could take us to see him.”

“That won’t be necessary, sir,” Gotoh replied. “Master Killua is on his way this very moment.”

Gon leaped up. “Really?”

“Yes. So please be patient.” Gotoh fixed his glasses. “That being said, it would be tedious to just sit and wait. Why don’t we play a game to pass the time?” Gotoh took out a gold-colored coin with a cross on it. He used his thumb to flip it up into the air, then swiped his hands across his chest to catch it. “Which hand holds the coin?”

“The left hand,” The four Hunters said simultaneously.

“Correct. Let’s go a little more quickly this time.” He flipped the coin once more and caught it. “Which hand?”

“The left again,” Gon replied. 

“Marvelous,” Gotoh commended, and the butlers clapped. “I’ll try a little harder this time.” The coin went airborne, but this time the hands were a near blur in front of Gotoh’s chest, making it hard to determine which hand caught it. “Which hand?”

“I’m not sure, but maybe the right?” Leorio ventured.

Unlike before, Gotoh’s next words weren’t of praise. “I’ve known Master Killua his entire life, and though it may be unbecoming of someone of my rank, I care for him as I would my own son. In all honesty, I despise you all for attempting to take him away.” The air around Gotoh began to distort, and malice burned around him, making Asterra’s skin crawl. “Well, which hand?”

“The left,” Kurapika replied. 

Gotoh opened his left hand. A coin, mangled and bent, sat in it. 

Her heart kicked into gear. She needed an exit strategy, now. _Four doors, one of which I know leads to an area with windows. Three butlers in front of me, three behind, including Canary. Skill level unknown. I could kick this table up so the hot tea falls into Gotoh’s face, delay them a couple seconds—_

“The mistress’ voice was a mere whisper as she revealed her thoughts to me. She was heartbroken that her son was leaving her and for that, I cannot forgive you.” A vein popped in his forehead, and a formerly stern expression became murderous. “So before Master Killua arrives, I shall test each of you by my own methods.” 

The all too familiar sound of steel being drawn from scabbards reached her ears, and Asterra looked around. Currently the butler behind the settee and two butlers opposite held long knives. A glance back revealed that one butler now held a dagger to Canary’s throat. Her face looked too pale to be an act. 

“This is her punishment for defying orders and bringing you here.” Gotoh said. “Allow me to explain the rules. Answer incorrectly, and you are out. If all of you fail, I will tell Master Killua that you all left for a place he can never hope to reach.”

“Killua is—” Gon started. 

“Silence! Your lives hang by a most delicate thread. Focus on answering my questions. I will not ask again.” The coin flipped into the air, and this time the butler to Gotoh’s right also joined into the fray, using his hands to distract them. 

_Shit._

“Which one?” Gotoh asked. “And time is of the essence – you only have three seconds. Any longer and Canary won’t be able to sing anymore.” He nodded towards the man holding Canary. “If they don’t answer in three seconds, slit her throat.” 

_He’s wrapping us up in his pace, taking control of the room. An attempt to throw us off balance._ Leorio seemed wholly taken by the act; Gon and Kurapika had looks of concern on their face as well. While Asterra did not have an emotional attachment to Canary, it would be disadvantageous to lose an ally this early in the game. 

“Hold on! It’s the left hand!” Leorio yelled.

“It’s the right hand,” the other three replied in unison. 

Gotoh opened his right hand. “One down.” He threw the coins up in the air and caught it. “Which one?”

The remaining three looked at each other and nodded in understanding. Pick alternating hands. 

“Right,” Kurapika said. 

“Left,” Gon said.

“Right,” Asterra said.

Gotoh opened his left hand. “Three down, one remaining.” He flipped the coin up into the air again.

“Wait a minute!” Gon said. 

Gotoh caught the coin. “What is it? If you’re trying to buy time, I’ll kill one of your friends.”

“Leorio, gimme your knife!”

Leorio stared at him. “Huh?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to use it for anything stupid.”

Leorio gave Gon the knife. Gon then ripped off the bandage over his eye and slit the swollen tissue. Blood tricked down from the wound. The swelling subsided, and he bandaged his eye once more. “There we go. I can see now. Come at me!”

Gotoh snorted derisively, then threw the coin in the air and caught it. “Which hand?”

“Left!” Gon said. 

“Very good. Let’s make things more difficult.” This time, three butlers joined, their hands blurring together like pale snakes. All three then withdrew, fists closed. “Now, which one of us has it?”

No, no, no. The odds were not in their favor for this one—the chances of guessing correctly had fallen from fifty percent to less than twenty percent. _Spirits, let Gon get this right. I did not come all this way to return empty-handed._

Gon paused for a moment, then smiled. “The man right behind me.” He pointed behind him with his thumb. 

Asterra glanced back to see the man open his hand. 

The coin was there.

Relief pulsed through her veins and threatened to make her relax completely, but she forced herself to focus once more. **_Not yet. You’re still in a vipers’ nest._**

“Splendid. Well done!” Gotoh clapped. The other butlers joined in as well—including Canary, who had been freed from the other butler’s grip. 

The praise was all well and good, but the person they had come for was not yet in the room. And as if fate itself had heard her, that person appeared. The doorknob clacked, and the door itself slid across the carpet behind them. “Gotoh, is Gon here yet?”

“Killua!” Gon cried out, turning in the sofa. 

The silver-haired boy bounded up to the settee, a large grin on his face. Killua was dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt with purple trousers, and a backpack hung from his shoulders. Blue and purple marks mottled his face, marks that had not been present during the Hunter Exam. The conclusion she reached made fire spark in her gut for a fleeting second. 

“Gon, you’re here!” Killua said. “Goldfish too!”

“Seriously?” Asterra drew an exasperated breath. “Do you even know my name?”

“Of course I do! Jeez, who do you think I am, Castella?”

 _Castella?!_ “It’s Asterra!” she snapped. “I am not a cake!”

“Close enough; you get worked up way too easily, Goldfish.” Killua pointed at Kurapika. “And you’re...Kurapika?” 

“Why am I an afterthought?” Kurapika muttered. 

The boy then turned to Leorio. “And Rioleo! You’re here too!”

“It’s Leorio!” he yelled, enunciating every syllable. 

Killua, unfazed by his fifty percent success rate with names, turned to Gon once more. “It’s been so long! Glad you could make it! What happened to you, though? Your face is a mess.”

“Back at you!” Gon grinned.

The silver-haired boy turned towards the butlers beyond the settee. “Hey, Gotoh! What happened to telling me as soon as they got here? What were you doing?”

Gotoh bowed slightly. “My apologies, Master Killua. I had them participate in a little game. It was a joke...though quite a poor one, admittedly.” The stern lines of his face softened as his features loosened into a smile. “I’m sorry for the trouble. I do hope you enjoyed yourselves.”

“You had me going there for a hot second,” Leorio replied. “You’d make a good actor.”

“Did they do something to you?” Killua asked, eyes narrowed. 

Gon shook his head. “No, they were just keeping us all entertained.”

“Really? Well, okay then. Let’s go somewhere place else. Like anywhere at all. If we stay here my mom will chew us all out.”

 _By all means, let’s._ She adjusted her backpack and the sword at her hip as she stood up. Asterra had expected more political maneuvering to draw Killua out of the Zoldyck’s fold. But she wasn’t one to complain when things were resolved much more easily than expected. More energy to tackle other difficult situations that were sure to come. 

The other three Hunters followed suit and gathered their belongings. 

“Hey Gotoh,” Killua said. “No matter what Mom said, don’t follow me. Got it?”

“Understood,” the head butler nodded. “Please do take care.”

“C’mon Gon, let’s go!” Killua took the lead and walked out of the room. Asterra, Leorio, and Kurapika followed. 

Gon, on the other hand, walked up to the head butler. “Gotoh-san, you’re gonna miss Killua when he’s gone, aren’t you?”

“No sir. It is our duty to serve our employers, not become emotionally attached to them.”

Gon stuck his tongue out. “Liar.”

“Gon,” Gotoh called out. He then flipped the coin in the air again and caught it. “Which hand?”

“Left.”

Gotoh opened his hand to reveal that the coin was in his right hand.

The Whale Island native’s eyes widened. “No way!”

“Indeed. A deception.” Gotoh replied. “The world is teeming with tricks and tricksters. Please be careful. And please, look after Master Killua.” He bowed.

“I will.” Gon nodded. He then ran to the exit, past all the butlers who bowed deeply as he ran by. “Bye, Canary!”

“Come on, Gon!” Killua sounded exasperated. “Let’s go before the annoying ones come!”

“Okay, okay!”

The four Hunters followed the Zoldyck to the front door, where freedom awaited beyond.

* * *

**Note: I (the author) am aware that Kalluto is male. Asterra isn't though, and since this is from her POV Kalluto is referred to as a female.**

**Thanks for reading, everyone! If you're reading this, you've read close to 190k words in varying amounts of time, which is no small feat. However, the end is in sight—Lattices will be ending in two to three chapters, depending on how long-winded I feel like being.**

**I want to thank you all for accompanying me on this journey. I've poured a lot into Lattices these past six years, and it would not have been possible without readers like you all cheering Asterra on (or saying that she needs a time-out XD). While I knew the basic premise of the story from the start I was still surprised by the twists and turns it took.**

**To conclude, I would like to make the final chapter a Q &A session, a la Webtoon. Please DM me your questions or put them in the review section. I've posted this fic in AOA as well, so I'll look at questions posted there too. In the event I get no questions, I will still leave some sort of final comments as the last chapter. I'll be taking questions until April 15, 2020 so ask away. The questions can be about behind-the-scenes stuff for Lattices, what inspired Lattices, about me (as long as it's not too personal)...anything!**

**As always, thanks for reading to the end.**

**-Rhyss**


	38. Farewell x Promise

While Gotoh made no attempt to follow Killua, Canary insisted on driving them back to Mukuroo Town. The apprentice butler shut down every attempt the silver-haired boy made to get a taxi, instead bringing a spacious, intimidatingly luxurious car to the Testing Gate. The car allowed for six people to sit behind the driver’s seat, three people per row facing each other. Once reaching the town, Canary paid for lodgings in a local hotel and produced five tickets for the express train to Gadoseine Airport that would depart at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Killua complained, but Asterra was secretly relieved because her cash supply was running low; there was no way in hell she would have been able to afford an express train ticket. 

The next morning, she woke up early to use the public payphone and let her parents know of her ETA in Mereta. Once again, they didn’t pick up; unusual, but nothing to be concerned about yet. After eating the complimentary breakfast, the five then set out for the train station. 

As they walked, Gon flipped a gold coin—the same Gotoh had used yesterday—into the air absentmindedly. “I wonder how he did that?”

“Did what?” Kikiri asked.

“What Gotoh-san did yesterday. I was pretty sure he caught it in his left hand.”

“Oh, that trick? Yeah, Gotoh got me too once with that,” Killua replied. “Once you know the secret, you’ll kick yourself for not seeing it.”

“Really?” Gon flipped the coin once more.

Kurapika, who had been walking in front of the two boys, swiped at the coin while it fell and caught it. “He most likely did something like this.” The youth flipped the coin in the air, slowing his movements to make it obvious which hand had caught it. 

Gon pointed to Kurapika’s left hand. “Your left.”

Kurapika chuckled and opened his right hand. 

Brown eyes widened. “What? How?”

For a boy with sharp eyes and a creative mind, it was surprising to see how Gon couldn’t entertain other opportunities. Perhaps it was a testament to his trusting nature. “He used two coins,” Asterra said. 

“But it looked like he only had one!” 

Kurapika proceeded to explain the trick while demonstrating. “He concealed a coin in his right hand and flipped another coin with his left. Then he used exaggerated movements to make it obvious he caught it with his left. 

“Now, this is where the skill comes in. If you think back to that moment, Gotoh took care to raise his hands above your eye level before asking what hand the coin was in. After you chose which hand held the coin, he let the coin in his left hand go so it fell into his sleeve. Then he showed us the coin in his right hand.”

“That cheater.” Gon gnashed his teeth, lips curled in a pout. 

“He wasn’t doing it the whole time. I bet he just used that trick on the last turn,” Killua said. “Gotoh hates cheating, even if it’s just a game.”

The group turned one last corner and the train station came into view. Gon looked at the clocktower. “We’re still early; what should we do while we wait for the train?”

Leorio pointed a thumb at a decorative grey fountain in the middle of a square. Morning commuters sat at small outdoor cafés eating breakfast or reading newspapers. “Let’s take a picture!”

“Why?” Asterra asked. 

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” Leorio replied. “We got Killua; our gang of five’s back together! Why not take a picture for the memories?”

“I agree! I want to show Mito-san who I met at the Hunter Exam!” Gon cocked his head. “Oh wait...I don’t have a phone...or an email address...”

“Convenience stores can print out phone pictures for you so they look like real photos,” Leorio said. “Pretty cheap too, so no problems there.”

“It would be nice to have a photo to commemorate,” Kurapika nodded. 

“I want a picture!” Kikiri chirped. Asterra rolled her eyes; whenever Kikiri wanted something, it was usually her that ended up being responsible for it since he didn’t have a bag. 

“It’s settled then!” Leorio walked up to a middle-aged couple, then handed them his phone. The group of five then situated themselves in front of the fountain in various poses, the middle-aged woman tapping on the phone several times. Leorio then retrieved his phone back from the couple with a word of thanks, sitting on the rim of the fountain as the other four individuals crowded around him to see the pictures. 

“Oh, this one’s good!” Leorio said. “Let’s print this one out!”

“Really? That one?” Asterra asked.

“It’s the only one where Kurapika has his eyes open.”

She scowled at Kurapika, who shrugged. 

Leorio checked his watch. “We’ve still got time; let’s go get them developed. There’s a convenience store right around the corner from here.”

“We can get snacks too!” Killua grinned.

“Is that all you have on your mind?” Kikiri asked. 

“What, I like snacks.”

“We noticed.” The boy had doused his pancakes with a sickening amount of syrup this morning, which made her wonder how he did not have diabetes. 

Killua paid no mind and instead ran into the convenience store with Gon. 

=o=o=o=

**Two hours later, Atorette Express Train**

Atorette Express’s passenger cars consisted of two columns of seats that hugged a side of the train, separated by an aisle. Each column’s row consisted of three seats, and the outermost seat of each row had a plastic loop on the corner. 

Gon hopped up and down at a particular row of seats. “Here’s where we’re sitting!” He slid into the window seat. 

“And here’s our row...” Kurapika grabbed the plastic loop on the corner of one seat and pulled it to his right. With a large _clunk_ two separate rows became two rows facing each other. Killua snuck by Kurapika and claimed the window seat across from Gon. The blonde then looked towards Asterra. When she stated her preference for aisle seats, Kurapika sat down next to Killua. Asterra sat down beside him, and Kikiri crawled into her lap. 

“Seriously though, why did you come on a tourist visa?” Killua exclaimed. “You passed the Hunter Exam, didn’t you? Why not use your license? You can use it to get into other countries and stay for as long as you want.”

“Yeah, we told him that already,” Leorio sighed as he sat beside Gon in the middle of three seats. 

“I’m not going to use it until I finish what I have to do,” Gon said.

“Which is...?” Killua asked.

“I’m not going to use my Hunter License until I can punch Hisoka in the face and give this number tag back to him! Until I can do that, I’m not gonna use my Hunter License or go back to Whale Island!”

Which meant the boy would be needing a visa no matter where he went. “So...you’re going to risk visa trouble and possibly wasting time solving it instead of training?” Asterra asked.

Gon balked. “Uhhh...”

“And where’s Hisoka?” Killua asked.

Gon grinned sheepishly. “Ummmm....”

“That’s what I thought,” Leorio sighed.

“Just so you know, you can stay in most countries on a tourist visa for ninety days,” Asterra said. “I suppose you could show them your Hunter License if the visa expires.”

Gon pouted. “No, I’m not using it until I get Hisoka!”

She raised her palms in placation. “I’m just offering advice here. Whether you take it or not is up to you. If you’re not going to use your License, though, I suggest figuring out where Hisoka is quickly.”

It was Kurapika that offered an unexpected helping hand. “I know where he is, Gon. Or rather, where he will be in the future.”

“Really?” Gon chirped. 

“How?” Leorio asked.

“I know because he told me after orientation.”

“You know, I’ve been wanting to ask you about that. What did he tell you?”

Kurapika’s eyes sharpened into knives and freezing-hot malice bloomed into existence around him. “That he’d tell me something interesting about the Spiders.”

Asterra glanced around their car, spreading her awareness over their surroundings like a net. There weren’t many passengers around them, and nobody reacted in an odd way or spiked malice. 

“I don’t recall every mentioning them to Hisoka, so he must have either overheard our conversation during the first phase or heard it from someone else,” Kurapika continued. “The troupe’s symbol is a spider, and anyone familiar with the troupe refers to them as such. Naturally, I was interested in whatever information he had.”

So _that_ was why Kurapika accepted Hisoka’s withdrawal from the fight. 

“When I asked Hisoka about it, he told me to meet him in Yorknew City on September 1st.”

“That’s half a year away,” Kikiri said. “What’s happening in Yorknew city?”

There was a moment of silence as all paused to think. The silence was broken when Leorio snapped his finger. “They’re holding the world’s largest auction!”

“That’s right. From September 1st through September 10th, an auction will be held with rare and unusual items on par with national treasures. No doubt the greedy will come to the auction to buy and satisfy their hunger. It’s the biggest gathering of wealth on the entire planet...for both legal and illegal goods.”

“If a group of thieves were to appear, that would be the place,” Asterra mused. 

Kurapika nodded. “Regardless, on that day, Hisoka will be somewhere in Yorknew City.”

“That makes sense,” Gon said. “Thanks, Kurapika.”

“Of course,” he said. “I hope you find it helpful in your search.”

“Yorknew City, huh...I wonder what kind of place it is. Do you know, Asterra?”

Asterra leaned forward slightly so she could see Gon better. “Never been to the Yorbian continent, but I’ve read about it. A big city with lots of skyscrapers, lit up so bright it looks like stars on the ground. Underbelly is filled to the brim with mafia though.”

“Sounds like a cool place,” Killua deadpanned. 

“Sure, if you like big cities.”

“I wouldn’t expect a country bumpkin from Sanaar to know how to enjoy it.”

“Says the one whose house is in the middle of a forest on top of a mountain.”

“A house with electricity,” he grinned. “I didn’t grow up on a farm.” 

Asterra scowled. 

“If you two are going to argue, sit next to each other or take it elsewhere,” Kurapika said, crossing his arms. “I refuse to be stuck in between a shouting match.” 

Asterra growled, then leaned back into her seat. Killua stuck his tongue out then turned to Gon and struck up chatter about some game. Leorio leaned back into his seat to take a nap.

As Kurapika took out a book to read, Asterra tapped his shoulder. 

“Yes?” he asked.

“Back there, about the auction—you mentioned there’d be legal and illegal goods.”

“You said so yourself—Yorknew is a hotbed of mafia activity. Auctioning illegal goods is to be expected.”

“What kind, though?”

Kurapika dropped his voice to a whisper. “Let’s say I’m fairly certain human traffickers will be there.” 

_Human traffickers._ It was possible Kurapika would find Scarlet Eyes there, then—all the more reason for him to go. But the words set off a memory in her head—of Rutello’s story about the Intaglio and the Lariats. If Lariats were so valuable, then perhaps any that still existed would appear there to be sold. Of course, the converse was always possible—if Intaglio learned of her existence and caught her, she would likely be on the auction block. 

_“Hunt carefully, Asterra. Your prey’s got dogs everywhere that’ll sniff out any threat...or profit.”_

Rutello’s words were the last things Asterra needed in her head now—after that mugging, there were already enough unknowns threatening to send her into paranoia. She didn’t need to add more fuel to the fire. “Good to know.” A moment later there was a guidebook in her hands and her mind was focused on memorizing a map of all the train lines in Padokea. 

Kurapika shrugged and turned his attention back to his book. 

=o=o=o=

**Six hours later, Gadoseine Airport**

The marvelous thing about an express train was how it cut a train ride that would have taken twenty-four hours into a six-hour ride, leaving them plenty of time to purchase a ticket for a blimp flight later that evening.

“This is where I bid you all farewell,” Kurapika said as they reached an intersection of terminals. Gadoseine Airport had two terminals—a smaller one for intracontinental flights and larger one with more branches for intercontinental flights. They would have to travel further into each terminal to buy blimp tickets. 

“What? Already?” Gon asked.

“We all got to see Killua again, so my work here is finished. I’ll be needing a lot of money if I’m going to attend the auction; I’ll have to start searching for a patron willing to employ me as a Hunter.”

“True.” Leorio stretched. “I guess I should be heading back home too.” 

“You too?” Gon asked.

“I haven’t given up on becoming a doctor. If I’m accepted to med school, then this License will pay for the crazy high tuition. I need to get back and start hitting the books to pass my exams, though.”

“Okay then. Good luck, Leorio!” Gon beamed. 

“You can do it!” Kikiri chirped. 

“Kikiri and I will take our leave here too,” Asterra said. 

“Where are you going, Goldfish?” Killua asked.

“Back to Sanaar. I’ve got my _Sharak’ennah,_ since I passed at least three phases of the Hunter Exam _._ ”

“Shara what now?” Leorio asked. 

“ _Sharak’ennah._ It’s a celebration for when a child becomes an adult. I’ll probably have to help out with the herds and do national service as well.”

“What? More national service?” Gon asked. “Why?”

“That was part of the agreement to be Trained.”

“How long is that for?”

“I can’t give you the details. Just know I’m expected to serve as needed, no matter where I am.”

“Oh.” The boy looked crestfallen. “I was hoping to see everyone in Yorknew on September 1st.”

“I can make it,” Leorio offered.

“I can as well,” Kurapika said.

“I’m just following you, so I’ll be there,” Killua added. 

Asterra beckoned with her head at the others. “There’s three out of four. That’s a good number.”

“But it’s not _everyone_ ,” Gon pouted. “It’s not the same without everyone there. Can’t you take a break for a month?”

“I...I don’t know.” It wasn’t a lie; she truly did not know the details. What she knew was that she was expected to serve for twenty years after becoming an adult. She was free to take on other societal roles during that time period, but they were to be secondary to her duty as a Wraith that protected Mereta from any threats. That had been the price of becoming who she was today, and something she would have to juggle while she unraveled the mystery of her dreams and the Lariat. “Why are you so fixated on this? You don’t need me to survive.” 

“That’ll be the day I need a Goldfish to survive,” Killua muttered. 

Well, at least someone was on the same page with her—even if that someone was a little shit that never remembered her name. 

Gon shushed Killua, then turned to Asterra. “No. But you don’t have to be as ruthless if you’re not alone, right?”

She blinked at him, completely taken aback by the statement, then glanced at the others. Leorio and Kurapika were smiling, while Killua looked confused. Of course he was—he had not been there when she talked about Training. 

Spirits, what did they see in her? These people knew who Asterra was, what she had done, what horrors she was capable of; why did they insist on tying her to them with promises despite all of it?

_Why are you all so willing to take a chance on me?_

...

 _Why am I wanting to do the same?_

Asterra took a deep breath, attempting to reign in the turbulence within her. She could not let her emotions get the best of her, not now, not ever. Not as long as she was a Wraith. “I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.” Before Gon could interject, she followed up with another (possibly damning) sentence that her lizard brain screeched at her not to say. “I will come if I can, and I will let you know if I cannot come. How does that sound?”

Gon’s face bloomed into a smile, and he nodded. “You promise?”

“I give you my word.”

“Then it’s settled! Let’s all meet...”

Five voices became a chorus, a promise to keep. “September 1st, in Yorknew City!”

Cellphone numbers were exchanged, either directly typed into phones or written on the back of receipts and handed out. Kurapika, Asterra, and Leorio branched off towards the intercontinental terminal with a wave. 

“Bye, guys!” Gon waved.

“See ya around, Goldfish,” Killua smirked. 

Asterra turned on her heel to face the silver-haired boy. “For the last time, it’s—” Before the protest manifested, an idea interrupted that train of thought. Her lips curled into a smile. 

“It’s what?”

“Never mind,” she replied, shaking her head. “See you when I see you...Dandelion.”

The absolute look of horror on Killua’s face would be something she remembered for the rest of her life. “D-D-Dandelion?” he stuttered. “Are you kidding me?! A _flower?!_ Take that back, Goldfish!”

“Would you prefer Lamb or Q-tip?”

Killua choked, while Gon giggled next to him. Chittering sounds from her shoulder told her that Kikiri was laughing as well. 

“No?” she asked. “Then Dandelion it is.”

“No, it isn’t!”

She turned her back and waved. “Call me by my real name and I’ll call you by yours.”

“Screw you, Goldfish!”

“’Til next time, _Dandelion._ ”

Much to her pleasure, it didn’t take much to imagine Killua’s incensed face and gnashing teeth. 

=o=o=o=

Kurapika, Leorio, and Asterra headed off to the Eastern hemisphere terminal after giving a brief wave to Gon and Killua. Beyond another set of gates was a series of ticket offices. Names scrolled across the ticker tape boards over the counters. As Asterra studied the boards for available flights to Sanaar, she felt someone tap on her shoulder. 

It turned out to be Leorio. “Someone’s been waving at us for the last couple of seconds, and Kurapika and I don’t know him. Do you?”

“Where?”

Leorio pointed behind himself with his thumb. “It’s the guy by the newsstand—grey shirt, red necktie.”

She peeked around Leorio. There was indeed a tall, heavy-set man with broad shoulders waving at them. There was a large object strapped to his back and a duffel bag sat by his feet. Shoulder-length silver hair glinted in the light. Sunglasses rested upon a hooked nose set in a tanned, square-jawed face currently cracked in a wide smile. She blinked, and the glance lengthened into a stare lasting several seconds. _Is that...?_

“If you don’t know him, I can go see what he wants—” 

A sun-bright smile crossed Asterra’s face. “That’s not necessary.” 

Leorio’s eyes widened with surprise at her expression and the amount of glee in her voice. He and Kurapika could only stare as Asterra bolted towards the man, bobbing and weaving through the crowd. The man shouldered the duffel bag and walked towards her as well. 

Once the two entered an area devoid of people, she leaped towards him, arms outstretched. “Uncle Morel!”

“Hey, kiddo!” The man laughed, catching her easily in his tree-trunk arms and spinning her around for several seconds. He set her down. “Look at you, all grown up!”

“It’s been six years! Of course I’ve changed some,” Asterra grinned, hugging him. She knew she looked stupidly giddy but decided not to care about it. This was the first family member she had seen in the flesh in six years, after all, and much to her relief he had barely changed. Her arms still couldn’t encircle his torso completely, despite her growth spurt. 

“Looks like Kikiri hasn’t changed at all, though,” Morel said as the Dokujo leaped onto him and rubbed against his neck. 

“Why are you here? Did you have a Hunt?”

“I was in the area and your Dad called; said you’d be flying out of here today. Thought I’d see if I could meet up with you, since I’m going to Sanaar as well.” He gestured towards the ticket offices. “Who are your friends?” 

“Oh.” In her excitement at seeing Uncle Morel she had completely forgotten about Leorio and Kurapika, who were standing where she had left them. They looked unsure about whether or not to approach. “They’re people I met during the Exam. Come on, I’ll introduce them.” She trotted over to the others, and Morel followed with his loping strides. 

Leorio was the first to speak when they returned. “Is that your dad?”

“Close—her dad’s cousin,” Morel replied. 

“This is Uncle Morel,” Asterra said. “Uncle Morel, this is Leorio and Kurapika. We met during the Hunter Exam.” 

“Morel Mackernasey; pleasure to meet you both.” Morel shook hands with each youth. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Mackernasey.” Kurapika tipped his head towards the man in a slight bow. 

“Just Morel’s fine. I’m not that special.” He gestured at the ticker tape boards. “Have you all bought your tickets? Don’t want to hold you up.”

“We’re still looking,” Kurapika replied. “Please, go ahead if you know what flight you’re booking.”

“Much obliged.” Morel turned to Asterra. “I’ll go get the tickets; hang tight.”

Asterra nodded and waited while Morel and Kikiri (who was still sitting on his shoulder) joined the rather short line for tickets. She stood next to the other two Hunters, skimming the boards for the other potential destinations since she no longer had to worry about finding tickets to Sanaar. Some cities were familiar from experience, others from books. Other names were new to her, and she made a mental note to look them up in an atlas the next time she got her hands on one. Usually the international flights had a couple floating around in their library.

“Where are you two going?” she asked out loud. 

“Mistol,” Leorio replied. 

_Begerossé Union._ “That’s a hike.” 

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he replied. “Couple days, at least. Good thing I brought something to study.” 

Asterra turned to Kurapika. “What about you?”

“Dotver.”

“...Where?”

“It’s in Saherta,” he replied.

That explained why she didn’t know where it was—her knowledge of the Eastern hemisphere and Begerossé Union was deeper than Saherta’s, by virtue of having been to more places there. In comparison, her knowledge of the Yorbian continent’s geography was pitiful at best. _I should really study up if I’m going to go to Yorknew...even if I don’t make it to the auction this year._

“You must really like him,” Leorio suddenly said. 

Asterra cocked her head at the youth. “Who? Uncle Morel?”

“Who else? I’ve never seen you so happy to see someone.”

“He’s been around as long as I can remember. He and Dad work together a lot, pulling artifacts up from the ocean. Says Dad’s his best customer.”

Morel returned, tickets in hand. “Not just best customer; he got me my first job as a Hunter and put me on the map. I owe him my career.” Morel handed Asterra a ticket. She glanced at it briefly, memorizing the flight number and departure time—three hours away—then tucked it away into the pocket she kept her passport in. 

Twenty minutes later Leorio and Kurapika had obtained their tickets and the group of four was passing through security. Leorio struck up a casual conversation with Morel, with Kurapika joining in occasionally. Asterra stayed silent and observed her surroundings, watching the tired security personnel stamp passports and tickets. One worker sorted through lacey clothing and took out a bottle of shampoo that was most definitely against regulations; another pulled out multiple vegetables from a duffel bag until it looked like he had enough to make a salad. And was that a plate of raw dumplings being set aside next to the red-colored cabbage? Who the hell had thought that was a good idea? 

_Spirits, what people will try to smuggle across borders._

Asterra set off the metal detectors again and ended up explaining that she had iron and aluminum in her bones to Leorio and Kurapika, like she had to Ponzu. She omitted the other minerals that were in her bones just like in the past as well. Morel just smiled and commented how nothing had changed. 

Once passing security, they group reached another intersection. She and Morel were to go left; Kurapika and Leorio were to turn right. 

“See you at Yorknew!” Leorio grinned. 

Asterra drew an exasperated breath. “...Were you listening at all during that conversation with Gon?”

“Pay him no mind; most things likely go in one ear and out the other,” Kurapika said. 

“What was that, Kurapika?!” Leorio hissed. 

The blonde ignored him. “Let us know whether you can make it or not. We’d like to know either way.”

“We want to see you too, ferret,” Leorio said. “Even if you are annoying.”

Kikiri curled against Asterra’s neck. “Asterra and I are a package deal. You don’t get one without the other.”

Kurapika gave the two a small smile. “We’ve noticed.” 

The Dokujo then straightened and bent his body forward in a bow towards the two youths. “Thanks for giving Asterra chance,” Kikiri said. “Even if she can be difficult.”

“Who’s side are you on?” she snapped at him. 

“Yours,” Kikiri replied. “Forever and always.”

“Now you’re just fishing for fresh meat.”

Kikiri chittered with a wide smile on his face, then waved with one paw as Leorio and Kurapika walked towards their gate. 

Once she decided that enough time had passed, Asterra caught up with Morel and the two walked towards the gate. Her steps felt lighter, as did her mood. Up until now she had been constantly casting her awareness over her surroundings like a net, trying to detect any malice directed at her so she would not be caught off guard again like the time in the alley. But now Morel that was here, with a reassuring presence as solid and stout as an oak, her nerves were becoming calmer with every minute. Asterra would not completely relax until she was in Mereta, but for now she was extremely thankful. 

“How are Mom and Dad?” Kikiri asked.

“Your mom and dad haven’t changed at all. I got another job from your dad coming up next year, and he’s churning out grants and papers in the meantime. Your mom’s been promoted to...chair emeritus? Yeesh, I can never keep track of academic lingo. It was a very impressive title, even if I can’t remember half of it.”

“Isn’t that where she always wanted to get to?” Kikiri asked. “T.C. something or other?”

“T.C. Venn Emeritus Chair of Sociology. I think it’s maybe two steps away from tenure. I think she wanted it for something else, but I can’t remember.” Asterra turned to Morel. “How about Knuckle and Shoot?”

“They’re doing quite well for themselves. Knuckle still tries to adopt every puppy and kitten he runs into, and last I heard Shoot is chasing down a _shun-tei_.” 

_Shun-tei_ , or Spring Emperors, were cryptids in Azia said to range from Kakin to Sanaar. They were said to be a fusion of multiple animals—the head and body of a deer, a neck like a snake’s body, and the tail of an otter—with pelts covered in moss and rare medicinal herbs. In folklore, seeing one was considered a blessing from the heavens. “Has he had any luck?”

“Some, but never enough. For every breakthrough, he experiences a couple setbacks.” Morel shook his head with a chuckle. “He’ll pull though, though. I know it.”

“Do you have pictures?”

“Hm? Oh, of course; you haven’t seen them in six years, have you?” Morel took out a sleek object that Asterra now knew was a phone. After tapping at it for several seconds, he gave the phone to Asterra. 

On the screen were Knuckle and Shoot, all right—just older than she remembered. Their faces seemed harder, and their hairstyles were different. But she could still see the youths that used to reluctantly baby-sit her (per Morel’s orders) all those years ago, and she grinned despite herself. Those six years in Training had felt like an eternity, and she had half-dreaded coming out to face whatever had changed in the world. It was apparent that technology had changed drastically. Were Mom and Dad still the same as before, like Morel had assured her? What about Nisk? 

But perhaps six years had not been an eternity to the rest of the world. Morel hadn’t changed, and Knuckle and Shoot were still recognizable. She could hope. 

Asterra gave Morel back his phone as they sat down in the seats near their departure gate. 

He pocketed the phone. “Those two you were with—Leorio and Kurapika—seemed like good people. Did you meet anybody else during the Exam?”

Asterra produced the picture that had been taken earlier in Mukuroo Town. She glanced at it once more, but no matter how many times she looked at it her opinion of it did not change. 

Why had they chosen this picture to print?

On the left, Kurapika looked towards the camera with a soft smile—a standard look. Everyone to the right of him was not so standard. Gon beamed at the camera, both thumbs up in a triumphant pose. Killua had tossed his arm around the Whale Island Native’s shoulders and leaned into him with a bright grin. Leorio nudged Killua’s back with his elbow as if enjoying a private joke. At the very right of the photo was Asterra, looking at the chaos beside her with a freckled face frozen in an expression of exhaustion and exasperation. Kikiri lounged on top of her head, mouth wide open in a gleeful smile. 

“Oh, let’s have a look,” Morel said. Asterra handed him the photo and the man choked back a laugh. 

“What?” Asterra cocked her head. 

“You look like you’ve had enough of their antics,” he chuckled. “You did like these people, right?”

“I wouldn’t keep a photo of them if I didn’t.”

“True. You were always selective with your company.” 

“Why waste time with people I don’t like?” She rested her chin on her palm. “Still don’t get why they insisted on printing this picture, though.”

“I can see why.”

“Glad someone does.”

“It’s—oh, what do they call it...” Morel snapped. “It looks candid. An honest representation of your time together.”

She craned her neck at the photo. “But I’m scowling.”

“Trust me on this one, kiddo. Keep it safe. It’s a picture you’ll look back on with a smile when you’re older.” He passed the picture back to her, and she took it in her hands carefully. “Did you guys make plans to meet again?”

“Yorknew City in a couple months,” Kikiri chirped.

“I don’t know if I can make it, but we set a time and place in the meantime.” Asterra paused, then continued quietly, “I’d like to make it.”

Morel smiled. “So who are the two younger boys?” 

She turned the picture towards Morel. “This is Gon, that’s Dandelion.”

“Dandelion?”

“His real name’s Killua. He calls me Goldfish because my hair’s orange and doesn’t remember my name, so I call him Dandelion because he has fluffy white hair like a dandelion.”

“And what does he think of it?”

She grinned wickedly. “He hates it.”

Morel shook his head, a chuckle on his face. “Where did you meet them?”

“I met Gon, Leorio, and Kurapika first. It was in Port Dolle, in front of a mapboard...”

The words flowed off her tongue after that. She recounted about Gon, earnest and trusting, that charmed all he met; about Killua, a little shit, mischief belying his abilities as an assassin; about Leorio, a doctor in the making who wore his heart on his sleeve; and about Kurapika, a paragon, similar to her but different enough to butt heads. 

Morel nodded, commenting and asking questions. She gave as much detail as she could, realizing there was much she didn’t know about them. But aybe, maybe that could be rectified...as long as she made it to Yorknew. But that was a problem for another day. For now, excitement bubbled within her at what was at the end of this particular flight. 

Home, and all that waited for her there. 

* * *

**Thanks for reading! If there’s any questions you have about Lattices or me, feel free to leave it in the comments or PM me.**

**Rhyss**


	39. Epilogue

It had chosen a most troublesome host. 

When this host came across its path, it had considered itself fortunate. The perfect vessel, devoid of sickness and thin blood. The perfect vessel to carve into a semblance of itself, to use for its own purposes. One last chance before oblivion swallowed it whole. 

Oaths to others had gotten its previous hosts killed in the past. That was precisely the reason why it endeavored to keep this host from making connections. The family, fine—it had kept the host alive. The creature, fine—it kept the host from destroying herself. The homeland, fine—the price for shaping this host into a survivor. 

But others? No. Unacceptable. Other ties were nothing more than interferences, distractions. And despite managing to prevent connections in the early years, the host had suddenly made six of them— _six—_ in the span of weeks. 

It cursed its powerlessness. It raged at the fact it was no more than a whisper in the host’s ear, that it could not even lace its suggestions with compulsion to enforce isolation. The irony was crushing—this was its final opportunity in a promising body, but it was too weak to completely to control it. 

But fortune had smiled upon it on one aspect. This host was curious—curious about the fragments it offered her in dreams, the other blessings it had bestowed. Even strong minds could be tempted, broken by the path curiosity led it down. 

It had chosen a most troublesome host. But with the right words, this host could be the foothold required for it to accomplish its objective. At the expense of the host’s mind, of course—two minds could not inhabit one body without serious repercussions—but that was none of its concern. 

If the host lost her mind, lost control of her body, it would be because of her own choosing.

* * *

**And that’s it. Done. You’ve all made it to the end...and I’ve actually managed to finish a story XD.**

**I’ll write something more heartfelt later, but for now I want to thank you all for reading Lattices and sticking with it to the end! It’s been a fun yet challenging ride as I juggle my daily life with my writing life but being able to say I finished something is satisfying, to say the least.**

**Thanks for sticking with this slow burn of a story!**


	40. Author's Notes

Hello everyone; hope everything is well with you all despite everything that’s going on in the world. I want to thank you all for reading _Lattices_ to the end, especially if you first picked up the story years ago. I know how easy it can be to lose track of a story, especially if it doesn’t update on a regular basis, and I definitely had a year-long hiatus while writing this.

I’ve wanted to be an author since elementary school. I went to university to pursue a different career as a day job, but the urge to write never went away. I picked up fanfiction to practice writing a novel and its intricacies, such as diving into character psyches, relationships, and worldbuilding, because it seemed more feasible than finishing an original project. So, while inserting an OC into canon is by no means an original idea, _Lattices_ has helped me practice these skills in a sandbox setting and build confidence in my ability to actually finish a story XD 

I read a good chunk of OC insert fics before starting my own story. _Lattices_ is the product of my trying to go against the grain and add details that weren’t always seen in canon. Thus, I tried to use Asterra as a vehicle to dig further into the main four characters and flesh out minor characters such as Ponzu, Menchi, and Pokkle. I also thought having Kurapika and Asterra being antagonistic to each other due to differences in moral codes would be interesting to write. 

On a side note, I realized I finished writing _Lattices_ on Kurapika’s birthday. That was unintentional, but kinda funny XD

Anyway, I believe I’ve rambled long enough about myself. As promised, here’s a Q/A section.

**What was your favorite part of writing _Lattices_? **

The action scenes. The process of visualizing, acting them out, and finally writing them gives me a lot of dopamine rushes XD I took care to make the fight scenes as realistic as possible because Nen had not been introduced as a combat mechanic yet, and my own experience with martial arts helped with the process. 

**It's a little saddening that the fic ended with so many unanswered questions. Are you planning to write a sequel or something?**

I am. I purposely left a lot of questions unanswered because I intended to write a sequel since the beginning. I’ve been using some of the extra time given by the COVID-19 quarantine to outline and write a rough draft. The sequel will run parallel to the Heavens Arena Arc in canon, covering Asterra’s Secret Hunter Exam and her experiences before the Yorknew Arc. It will take place in Mereta, so if you enjoy worldbuilding, you will be getting a lot of it in the next installment. 

This is a little unrelated, but I’m in the process of looking for a beta or two. I actually wrote _Lattices_ without one, save for my friend who would read some chapters I was having trouble with and give feedback. I was comfortable doing this, because I was following a predetermined plot. That being said, this sequel is going to be wholly original content and I’d like some extra eyes to read over it. I’m looking for people to read for grammar/typos, plot holes, and/or making sure characters stay in character. I’m looking at betas on FanFiction.net, but I’ll be honest: asking someone for help then saying “You’ll have to read an extra 39 chapters to catch up on all the material” seems rather inconsiderate. Also, my friend who’s been helping is studying for med school. Regardless, if you have anyone you recommend or would like to be one yourself, let me know in the comments or PM me. I feel like asking for help from readers is a little frowned upon, but might as well try anyway. 

**What kind of Nen ability would Asterra have? What type of Nen does she have?**

You’ll find out in the sequel. 

**What do you envision her doing after the events of Lattices?**

Figuring out how to use Nen, becoming an adult, and getting inducted into the Wraiths. Oh, and learning more about the Lariats. 

**Given that the Resca have a higher concentration of minerals in their bones, are they related to the Lariats in any way?**

...Maybe...

**What did Asterra's parents want to tell her when she got older? Did they have her join the Resca military ranks in order for her to blend in?**

This will also be covered in the sequel. 

**Do you have any pairings planned?**

Mmmmmmm...honestly, I’m not sure. 

Hunter x Hunter isn’t a romance-centric story to begin with. I also made _Lattices_ nakama-ship because it made sense with Asterra’s development as a person. She’s basically a child soldier who’s got a lot of trauma to work through (trust issues, unhealthy coping mechanisms, the works). What she needed at this point of life was the opportunity to make friends and have something stable with people outside her family. It didn’t make sense for her to fall in love. 

Now, as for the future...I think it would be interesting for her to experience romance and see how she reacts to it. It is an aspect of human development, after all. I have some ideas, but they need to be fleshed out more if I want to make it convincing. 

**WHAT THE HELL POSSESSED ASTERRA!?**

Hehehehe you’ll see. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 

I think it’ll be an interesting application of what’s been seen in canon, but that’s just me writing what I want to read. Hope you all enjoy it too XD

**Admittedly completely unrelated to the story, but do you have any fanfic recommendations? I noticed you mentioned Freedom X Fortune X Fate before, and I had read that before coming across this, so I trust your judgment.**

If it’s under my favorite stories on my profile, it’ll likely be a good read. I’ll highlight the ones I enjoyed particularly. 

I am a big Shakarian fan (Shepherd x Garrus Vakarian from Mass Effect). For this pairing, I’d recommend _Ghost, Ghost, I Know You Live Within Me_ by theherocomplex and _Journal of the Plague Days_ by servantofclio. _Ghost, Ghost_ is more of a psychological slow-burn that I don’t think has been completed, while _Journal_ is a one-shot with a human/Turian pairing that Shepherd runs into on Omega. Both are well-written in my opinion and pretty grammar-error-free. 

I don’t really watch Fairy Tail, but I do enjoy Gajeel x Levy fics for some weird reason. For this pairing, I like Miss Mungoe. I especially like _Hard Liquor_ , a Prohibition-era AU set in a Magnolia-version of New York, and _Roots in Foreign Soil_ , a Hobbit AU. Once again, both are well-written and cohesive, and do a good job with their worldbuilding. 

If you’re into Hawke x Fenris from Dragon Age, LoquaciousQuark has a lot of stories for this pairing. I really, really fell in love with his/her/their style of writing and word choice. My favorite stories include _River Stone,_ in which Hawke is branded by a failed rite of Tranquility; _Mute,_ which is a dark take on a rescue that’s come too late; and _Invicta, Invictus_ , a Tevinter AU. LoquaciousQuark also has fluffier material and covers other fandoms, but yours truly prefers advanced darkness, apparently. 

_Guardian,_ by forthrightly, is a Spirited Away fanfc. It’s a cute collection short chapters that chronicles an older Chihiro on a quest of rediscovery. 

...You know, for a person who doesn’t write a lot of romance, I sure as hell do read a lot of it XD. 

=o=

That concludes the Q/A. Thank you again for your follows, favorites, and reviews on _Lattices_. Stay safe out there, and I’ll put up a notice on Lattices when the sequel comes out. Until then, take care!


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